Son of the Laurels
by OurLadyoftheBonBons
Summary: Dain Cousland is the last son of Highever, somehow he finds new purpose as a Grey Warden. His journey from the anger driven boy to the Warden Commander.
1. Chapter 1  How Dare You

**How dare you**

It felt like the anger was a stubborn pressure in his head, pushing at his eyeballs. And they had known, all known and they hadn't told him. His brother, the one that he thought he could utterly rely on. Fergus had known, even Oriana had known. The anger made him pale and he couldn't look at anyone. He mounted the horse, twisting his fingers into the reins, tightening them trying to use the pain to diffuse some of his raw emotion. Dain couldn't trust his voice, he didn't want to say goodbye, he was more likely to vent and rage. To say something that would poison the situation even further. With a few foot signals the horse pirouetted; its ears flicked back as the first sobs sounded. His mother's maybe, but it wasn't enough to have him looking back. His father was embracing his mother; she had tried to bury her sobs in her husband's chest. There seemed an unfathomable look on the Teryn's face as he watched his teenage son ride away. He had organised the squiring, it had been a necessity, backed even by Fergus. But he understood somewhat the type of anger and desertion that Dain was feeling. No matter the attempts at explanation, Dain had retreated into the burning anger as soon as he'd understood what the arrival of the retinue from the Free Marches meant for him. Oren held tight in Oriana's arms called out in just recognisable words for his favourite uncle, chubby arms reaching for the boy who wouldn't look. Fergus put his arm around Oriana, the Antivan woman crying for the brother of her husband she had come to love like her own. As Dain was jostled by the rolling steps of the horse he closed his eyes. He knew that he was quick to anger, things that others laughed off he felt like a punch to the guts, a reflex of anger that he hadn't learnt to control. And now his father had made the decision that sending him away, far away to the Marches, was the only way. Before his sixteenth birthday, before he could try…But he knew as he left Highever behind that he hated his family.


	2. Chapter 2  The Prodigal Son?

**The prodigal son?**

He rode without others, though at the horse's side ran a large mabari. Its tongue lolling out though it kept up easily even with the horse moving at a canter. This time the reins were nearly carelessly looped around one hand, the other rested on the leather covered thigh. He had grown since he had left Highever, not just his height but his shoulders and strength. He'd acknowledged and worked with the fury that his parents had seen so readily and had been so afraid of. It was still there, perhaps it would always be there, but now he had started to learn how to use it, work with it, rather let it swallow him whole. The gates were already open and he rode the horse through them, in his eagerness he nearly leapt from the horse before it had halted. The mabari ran about, smelling everything carefully snorting in great lungfuls of air. A shape pushed up from one of the columns of the castle, arms crossed.

"Wondered when you would arrive."

Dain grinned, moving towards his brother. Fergus was impressed; he wasn't sure what Dain would be like after five long years away from Highever, from his family. But here he was, tall and broad. The hilt of a long sword coming from his shoulder. He wore nicely made leather armour, the skin showing on his arms and face was tanned from long periods in the sun, and his hair had grown long, loose as it was now it sat bunched on his shoulders. There was the roughness of stubble on his cheeks and with a start Fergus realised that Dain had left before he had managed to teach him how to shave. But he quickly forgot when Dain grinned,

"Fergus. You have no idea how good it is to see you."

His voice had become bigger too, and it rolled and lilted with a ferocious Coastlands accent. It was Dain who initiated the hug, tightening solid arms around his brother. How he thought his younger brother would have loathed him still!

"I've missed you brother."

Fergus just grinned.

They walked up the stairs, nothing much between them now. Both tall muscled and long haired, from the back all differing them were the armour they wore. It was Dain who broke their readily accepted brotherly silence.

"Is it true? The news from the south."

Fergus nodded,

"Yes. Father will want to talk to both of us."

He could guess the thoughts going through his younger brother's mind; at least he would be included. He was still so utterly surprised at his younger brother no longer being so little. Guards at the doors struck them as Fergus and Dain crested the stairs.

Bryce looked up then down, before doing a double take. Not only at the pony sized mabari that waltzed in, but it seemed that Fergus had suddenly sprouted a twin, until…

"Dain!"

He couldn't have controlled his shout even if he had wished. Bryce strode towards his sons quickly, though he did not run, Dain knew his father had missed him and was in the midst of great emotion. No more words were said; instead Bryce embraced his youngest, no longer looking down upon Dain. After five years he had missed Dain so much and was overjoyed at the grin his son wore even while he looked at the person who had sent him away. Perhaps he didn't truly hate him.

"Father."

It was a whisper, but it made the grin on his face split wider, even a chuckle sounding. Dain pulled back to look at his father,

"There you are lad."

"Yeah, here I am."

A strangled noise came from behind Dain; he turned from his father, though Bryce still had his hand on his son's shoulder. Fergus was being investigated by the mabari; it had risen onto its haunches and placed massive clawed paws onto his shoulders. Fergus' knees were shaking at the huge weight, and as the large toothed mouth came close, nose sniffing over his face. Dain just laughed,

"Fergus meet Bear. He imprinted a couple of years ago, if you would believe he was the runt of a litter but he's definitely outstripped his siblings. A devil to feed but makes up for it. Hey boy."

Bear wuffed and jumped down, leaping to Dain, rubbing against his legs snuffling at his dropped hand before sniffing at Bryce. The Teryn barely had to crouch to look at the animal, knowing hands petting the broad head and pointy ears. A side door to the hall thudded open, all three men spinning towards it. Bear did too, but recognised the scent and what it heralded before anyone else. An eight year old boy sprinted through it and leapt towards Dain. He caught Oren, bony knees hitting his stomach shielded thankfully by his armour. A grinning face appearing centimetres from his own as arms locked around his neck.

"Uncle!"

There was a gap in Oren's grin where he had lost a tooth; thankfully there were no slippery esses in his name.

"Look at you my boy, managed to outstrip your mother finally I see."

"Oh, I think she's coming. I heard from the guards that you had come back!"

Each word was shouted, but it didn't kill the smile on Dain's face.

"I did and I am."

The grin got even wider,

"You sound funny."

Dain hefted Oren onto his hip.

"I know. It took me months to figure out what was said in the barracks, let alone at the castle. I eventually picked up the accent and language now I can't get rid of it."


	3. Chapter 3  Old and New

**Old and new**

Even though he had walked the halls, ran them, played in them, they seemed at once strange and new, and old and familiar. Bear had vanished quickly, Oren and he fast friends the mabari leading the boy on wild chases through the hallways, terrorising servants. Dain had noticed the small numbers of Howe's men, but avoided commenting on it to his father, though he had spoken to his brother the night before. He had entered Oren's room quietly, a candle shining on the sleeping boy's face, the hulk of Bear taking up most of the bed. An ear twitched Bear looking at his master, but closing his eyes and snuggling closer to the boy at a gesture. Fergus looked up, always a ready grin for his younger brother. Fergus looked at his little brother, still seeing the smaller ready to grin mischievous boy – the one that had been sent away because of the simmering anger underneath so easy to rouse to burn. There were maps unfolded on the floor of Oren's room, Fergus sitting before them not garbed in the armour he would don the next day but simple pants and shirt. Dain sat on the ground, crossing his legs in front of him at Fergus' signal.

"Only place I have quiet to think on these."

The whisper wasn't enough to wake Fergus' young son, in fact the sound and that of his beloved uncle seemed to send the boy deeper into slumber.

"That doesn't surprise me brother. Are you worried about something?"

"Father and I spoke of the King's orders, what we understand of them. I can't tell you much, it is not my place, but it seems to lack strategic…finesse."

"The King was tutored by Mac Tir himself, plus he will be commanding the armies as General."

There was silence as Fergus seemed to try and gather his thoughts, but finally he just spoke them,

"I think the King may think that as King he could be…invincible. I think that he doesn't seem to take the threat as seriously as he should."

The two brothers sat in silence for a while.

"I'm proud of you brother, this is a big responsibility."

Dain snorted,

"I would rather be beside you and father."

"But you haven't said that to Father yet."

Dain scratched his head, running fingers though his hair,

"No, haven't managed to get the stones to do that yet. Tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow, though I don't think that it will make a difference. I'll see you before you go brother, I'll let you alone with Oren."

Dain stood and moved out quietly, Bear not moving, merely burying his nose deeper into the blanket.

"My Lord Cousland?"

Dain turned; he held the shield in his hand loosely. He had been speaking with a couple of off duty guards, though they backed off as the runner wheezed up.

"Yes?"

"Your father requests your presence in the hall, immediately."

Dain just inclined his head in reply, the messenger moving off. He turned to the guards grinning,

"I guess me beating you with just this shield will have to wait. Duty calls."

The men laughed him off, it followed him a little ways as he headed towards the hall. Guards called out their greetings to him as he walked. It had been a thing he had found curious, when he had been younger they had seemed to just tolerate his presence, a seeming embarrassment to the guards when he foundered around a corner eternally chasing after Fergus or Roland. As he thought of his and Roland's many play fights his thoughts turned to the only friend that he had left. For now his hopefully still best friend had been on duty for the few weeks he had been back, their reunion had been brief and Dain wished that he could spend more time with the red headed knight. But for now the interest in his father's summons arose in his mind, he opened the side door to the hall and headed for his father. He was well dressed in more formal noble clothing, next to him a shorter and a weasel human look alike laughed nasally at something Bryce said. Both turned to him at the sounds his boots made on the stone floor. Dain felt relief at the grin that lifted his father's lips, a glow at the reappearance of his son.

"Ah there you are Pup. You remember Rendon Howe?"

The man had seemed to have grown much older in the years since Dain had last clapped eyes upon him. But as always a squirrelly man, but he smiled and inclined his head to the man, after all he was his father's friend and he had met his son Nathaniel in the Marches.

"Of course, it is good to see you again Howe. I spent some time with Nathaniel when we met in the Marches, he has a wicked arm on him and is most skilled with a bow."

Howe said nothing at his son's name instead speaking of another.

"Perhaps I should have brought Delilah with me when I heard that Bryce had sent for his youngest?"

Dain's right eyelid flickered a little but smiled,

"I do believe that Delilah is much younger than I."

Bryce laughed, it took Howe a bit longer too.

"There is no telling my lad these days. Maker knows that, bless his heart."

But it seems that Howe wasn't done, Dain caught the vicious angle of his lips before he spoke.

"These days? I would have thought there would have been no doing it before he left for the Marches either."

Dain couldn't help the wince he gave, embarrassment for his behaviour when he was younger, the regret at what he had put his parents through and also the flare of anger at Howe's words in his stomach.

"My son was sent to the Marches yes, but he has returned and I think some courtesy would not go astray my friend."

Dain wished his father hadn't softened his words to Howe, it had the effect of him hanging his head lower like he was nine years old again and before his Nan for punishment.

"Of course, sorry lad."

Again the child still in him had Dain shrugging, still frustratingly unable to meet any eyes.

"But there is someone I'd like you to meet."

He didn't seem to be addressing his words in particular to him or Howe. But at this Dain lifted his head, watching his father gesture to a guard who bowed and moved out of sight. It was awkward, Dain found himself tongue tied unable to think of anything to say, though even if he had he doubted his tongue would have unwound enough to get it out. The staccato of two pairs of boots had him turning from the fierce study of his father's large oil portrait and instead concentrating with an interested expression on the man following the guard. He was tall, solid and though he knew the word to be one of his mother's expressions, grizzled. His dark though greying hair was pulled back into a tail his face made stronger by the dark beard. There was something different about this warrior, even for the long sword and dagger strapped to his back. His presence was commanding though not overt, he moved with what Dain recognised as complete assurance that whatever was happening he was able to handle it; a mien of complete control. Beside him Howe looked even more like the weasel he so resembled.

"May I introduce Duncan, a Grey Warden."

Thankfully it was Howe who stuttered, his tongue totally useless. Dain managed to keep his jaw from shattering on the floor and simply studied this man who stood so assuredly.

"A Grey Warden! I am at a disadvantage."

"He arrived only a short time ago. You know about the Wardens Pup?"

Dain couldn't help his grin, apart from military strategy, the martial history of the Wardens was the only other thing that he had paid attention too when the family's tutor Aldous had opened his wheezy mouth to lecture.

"Of course, they are a league of extraordinary warriors. To be honest I couldn't be more surprised if you had managed to conjure one of their griffons too father."

There was no controlling the red the absolutely suffused his face at the laugh that Duncan gave, it went even brighter when his father joined in.

"I'm glad Pup, please look after Duncan while we are gone."

Dain stuck with a safe nod.

"Good, that's settled. To be honest I thought you'd fight me a little. For now could you go and find your brother and tell him he will be leaving now. Howe and I will leave tomorrow with the rest of his men."

His mother would have proud of the bow he gave, and the fact he didn't argue about wanting to stay in the presence of the Warden. But Dain did hear part of the conversation before he left.

"I'm here to test Ser Gilmore, but to be honest Teryn, your son would be a likely candidate as well."

"I do not have so many children that I would see them off to battle…"

The door shut and Dain was left in the quiet, until he heard the sound of the muffled barks. With a wince he turned.

"Dain!"

He spun grinning as he recognised the form of his best friend.

"How goes it Rory?"

A sheepish grin appeared on the knight's face.

"Does this have something to do with the dulcet tones of a mabari…one that sounds suspiciously like Bear?"

"Ah yes. Nan nearly beat me with a ladle to get me to find you. He's in the larder again, then I saw your mother and she set me on the same errand."

Dain clapped his friend on the shoulder angling him towards the kitchens,

"Come on then, while you are with me we can talk. So knight huh?"

The flush, even on the red head, was more becoming than his had been.

"Oh and before you answer, heard any rumours about a particular red headed man and a Warden?"

Dain was rewarded with a hiccupped shout, he laughed managing to congratulate his friend who had suddenly lost his wind.

* * *

><p>He spied his mother in the atrium with some others. Ever since he had returned seeing his mother had filled him with a surge of joy and also the darkness of regret at what he had done to her that last day. He swore the tears she had shed when she had seen him at his return would be the last she would weep. And there on her face the same brightness that had been on his father's,<p>

"There you are Dain, I see you have saved the larder from the menace of your beast."

Bear yipped happily at the Teryna before sitting and setting to a scratch with vengeance. Dain kissed her cheek in greeting, revelling in the blush she gave.

"I did, but not before he ate the kitchen staff and made Nan's head explode."

"He will have no doubt eaten better than we will if we have lost Nan's skills."

A titter from the man and the serving woman accompanied his mother's words.

"Manners, excuse me. Darling you remember Lady Landra?"

Dain smiled broadly, but smothered it as he kissed the back of her hand. He had met her a few months before he had been sent away, despite him being so young she had been nearly fall down drunk in his mother's salon trying to come onto him. He had been terrified and fled to the stables to hide until the salon had been finished.

"Of course, it is good to see you again."

She swatted at him,

"Nonsense, I remember enough of that parlour that I embarrassed both you and myself. But do you remember my son Dairren. It has been a few years."

The man was grinning readily, the same as he had been in the tourney which had been the last time he had seen him.

"Yes he does, I don't think any one will forget the thrashing you gave me."

Though it was said with a bright grin and a forgiving mien Dain knew he had lost it against this easy going man, breaking his nose heavily.

"I do. And must ask your forgiveness once more my friend."

"You always had it Dain, though after you went to the Marches I won a few. Guess that'll be the last chance I'll have for a while, if not ever again."

The serving woman was shorter than even his mother, and he saw the tip of a slanted ear as she curtseyed.

"My maid servant Iona, say hello dear."

Her eyes were bright sky blue, her nose wrinkling delightfully Dain thought, as she grinned.

"I…It's nice to meet you my lord."

Both Eleanor and Landra giggled at the rattled maid who flushed harder.

"Come now Eleanor, seems the girl is smitten."

"Lady Landra!"

Iona whispered, dashing looks at Dain. It seemed though she was demure and flushing at the obvious remark, it hadn't seemed to dampen her feelings.

"Perhaps we could talk later then?"

"As your Lord wishes."

Though his mother spoke to him Dain found it difficult to shift his focus from the way Iona bit her lip to look at Eleanor.

"Please excuse me, I think I will have rest."

Dain bowed to the three, Iona with Dairren heading to the study. He watched them disappear around a corner before looking at his mother.

"I see you wish to make a pit stop before you continue looking for Fergus?"

"Am I that transparent Mother?"

She laughed and reached up to hold his slightly stubbled cheeks.

"More so than the elf maiden."

She was silent as she looked him over carefully.

"Are you alright mother?"

She sighed,

"Just looking at my little boy."

Dain humphed, clenching his jaw in an attempt for manly pretence.

"I am hardly a boy any longer mother."

"I barely turned away and here you are, a fine man. A very tall large man. But as your mother I do not have to like it Dain, it was much easier when I could hold you in my arms."

Dain took his mother's hands in his own.

"I love you Mother, I am sorry for what I did."

She kissed him quickly, not able to dash the small bit of moisture from her lashes.

"I know my boy, I am too. But if you wish to look for Fergus I believe he is farewelling Oriana and Oren in his quarters."

"Thank you mother…Are you staying?"

"No I am accompanying Lady Landra. Your father and I thought you may find it awkward with me here."

"Never Mother, but I understand."

Eleanor squeezed his hands and let him go, watching her youngest son jog down the stairs, his faithful mabari skittering after him.

* * *

><p>"There is my little brother to see me off. Dry your lovely eyes dear, wish me well."<p>

Dain shared a grin with Oren, pretending that the sight had made him blind.

"I don't think Bear minds, but do you wish for Oren and I to wait outside?"

He was rewarded with a grin from Fergus but another look entirely from Oriana, decidedly more wicked. Oren yanked on Dain's hand. He knelt the boy managing to insinuate himself in his arms easily. He hadn't really got used to the expanse that was his nephew, from the still gurgling and leaking infant he had left, now there was a young boy who right now was all angles and knees. A sliver of white was visible in the front of his grin as his tooth regrew.

"Papa says he will get me a th-ward!"

Dain laughed,

"I hear they are pretty tricky to find."

"Yeah!"

Oren released his hands and flailed them around like he held an imaginary sword and was fighting an invisible enemy.

"Take that dire bunny! All th-pawn fear my th-ward of truthine-th!"

Dain mouthed the words back at Fergus who was laughing.

"Careful Oren."

The pout was instant,

"Mind your mother lad."

Oren sagged heavily in Dain's arms, no longer upright.

"I don't get to have any fun."

"War isn't fun Oren."

Dain winked at the boy, Oriana wasn't normally so hard on the boy. But with Fergus leaving he knew she was afraid for him.

"Will there be dragons? Uncle will you help me fight them!"

"You bet kiddo, you me and Bear, bring 'em on."

Dain caught the heavy rolled eyes that Oriana gave to Fergus. More conversation was halted by Bryce and Eleanor entering the room; the whole family in the same room for perhaps, potentially, scarily, the last time. Oren slid from Dain's arms, collapsing in a heap with Bear on the bottom, the huge animal more than happy with the arrangement. Fergus saw his brother not joining in with the conversation and angled him towards the door,

"You alright there Dain?"

Dain's pout was similar to his nephew's earlier effort.

"I wish I was going you and Father."

"You and me both. It seems that Howe's men are marching backwards with the time it's taken them. But I know that Father is more relaxed, as much as he can be I guess, with you here looking after Highever. As am I with Oren and Oriana here. Though this is home I feel better knowing you will be looking after everything."

"It definitely is home Fergus. Your march will be tough, let alone what will be down there to meet you."

"That is one part I would like to swap with you."

"Can't, I have a prior engagement with a large bed and a willing participant."

Dain took the punch from Fergus good naturedly,

"You sly dog! It's that sweet little maid that came with Lady Landra isn't it? Don't tell me it isn't. I will miss you brother, again."

Fergus' last words were punctuated with a sigh.

"I and Highever will still be standing when you return."

Fergus hugged Dain, releasing him quickly when both started coughing to cover up the lumps that had arisen in throats and tears that threatened to fall.

"You should go to bed Dain, tomorrow will be a tough day."

"I will, but don't think I've forgotten about the Warden you have secreted away in the castle."

Bryce sighed,

"Perhaps we can talk about it when I return Pup. Be a good lad."

Dain sketched a salute but took the time to shake hands with his father and kiss his mother good night. Oriana's hug felt desperate,

"_Please, if you need anything while you look after Highever do not hesitate to ask."_

He smiled and kissed her hair, and replied to her whisper

"_You will be my first port of call Ori."_

Oren giggled shrilly at the quick pounce attack and the quick tickle. Worry hung over Dain as he looked back into his brother's room, but as he opened the door to his own and saw the glinting blonde hair of Iona it fled and was replaced by something else entirely.


	4. Chapter 4 Sweet Iona

**Sweet Iona**

He knew that initially she had been interested. He had large, broad shoulders. He had been basically playing at war since he had left Highever and gone to the free Marches to squire. And he had revelled in it, a chance to break free. And it showed. He was fit, fitter than a lot of the people at the castle. But it wasn't just that, he was well trained, beautifully in fact. In both sword and shield as well as with daggers and the massive broadsword. He loved using that weapon; he had used it often, attested to in the width of his shoulders. But the finesse and skill in using the shield as both a defensive and offensive weapon had intrigued him.

He had taken the tie from his hair, it fell around his face. He took off his shirt first, eyes alighting on the woman who reclined in the bed, already nude but for the sheet held over her chest. Though she looked nervous, her gaze showed lust. His muscles had started to clench, his body eager for the woman too. Even the simple action of tossing his shirt to the ground flexed his arms and he heard her sound of appreciation. But he also heard the sound of apprehension as he eased the pants down. He was already hard. He sat on the bed and traced her face with a hand, her eyes fluttering closed he kissed her then, teasing her mouth open. He couldn't help the next action. He gathered her slight body in his arms, holding not crushing, letting her feel the arms that held her, the broad chest she pressed against. She murmured and opened her mouth.

She was swollen, coming four times already. He loved it. She was at his mercy, and she enjoyed it. He was too much man to push off, but even for his size he was gentle, until the nip of her teeth and the points of her nails urged more. This time was rough; he pushed her legs open, her calves and ankles rising over his hips, locking him tight against her. His lips pressed against her neck, nipping, sucking her skin her arms were tight around him as he thrust inside. She took it her hips moving, back arching taking everything. The roughness starting that burn inside, this time rising she couldn't breathe, He smiled against her neck, feeling the tautness of her as her orgasm came. He was nearly there, but the moaning scream she gave offered new pleasures, and on the heels of this came another. She moaned that it was too much, that she couldn't. Twisting his hips slightly he changed the pressure, moving it to another angle, shivers of pleasure rippling through her. As she came again, screaming, her nails scraped down from his nape to his buttocks, a series of bloody welts that drew pleasure down to his hips, erupting inside her, everything about him taut as he released with her.

She was too languid, she tried to push him off, but regardless her legs fell open as he slid between them, the slick of herself and he made her slippery. Even the feel of his breath upon her caused shivers. This time he was so slow, he slid a hand across that bump, her hips jumping. Slowly he eased into her; he kissed her, the taste of herself on his lips. She sucked his lip, biting it as that last one came, signalling slowly before rising quickly, the slow movements of his hips, the flow of his muscles as he held her. She shuddered into him, her breath sighing into his mouth, and he let go, stroking a few more times till he was completely empty. He kissed her softly, her body wet, slick and lazy. He turned her, sliding out but he pressed against her back, gathering her against his chest, her arms rising to hold him around her. His legs entangled with hers. Her breath quietened, the roar of her heart and his slower to calm.


	5. Chapter 5  Flight from Highever

**Flight from Highever**

His eyes flew open, immediately registering the night. The faint glow of the torches lining the corridor outside seeping under the door. Only his previously easy breath in his ears. Until it sounded again, the reason for his sudden awakening. The woman beside him was still asleep. She had wanted to spend the night with him. He had seen that look before, but had never so obviously taken them up on it. His brother had seen through him straight away. He was glad he had, the lithe elf woman had shown him tricks, and had also enjoyed herself, if her cries had been anything to go by. But it wasn't a sound she had made in her sleep that woke him. He looked across to Bear. The mabari was growling, so low that it was a vibration he felt rather than heard. It wasn't something the animal did lightly. Swinging his legs to the side he stood, the relief of his weight from the bed woke Iona. She rolled to her side, watching him move to crouch next to Bear. He was naked, his pale skin glowing in the half light from outside. Now she could hear the growls, and those sounds of something from outside. She left the bed, standing on tip toes to light a torch on the wall. He turned and watched her as she reached to the torch. There was a smile on his face, she caught it and blushed. She could see the bloody lines she had drawn down his back, a grin at the marks she had left on him, the throb renewed between her own legs. But new growling from Bear had him frowning, and moving to the door. Iona moved behind him, reaching for a sheet from the bed, pooled on the ground from their exertions. The door banged open, the last thing Iona saw was the man and his bow, the arrow a blur as it was fired striking deep in her chest. Both Dain and Bear leapt towards the man, Bear ripping a huge bleeding gouge in the man's thigh, Dain thundering a punch into his face, his left drawing the man's knife and slicing his throat as he reeled from the shocking hit. Bear got the other, dodging the sword with slick easy movements, fastening his great jaws upon his neck, growling as he suffocated the man, finally snicking his jaws together the man lying still. Dain turned back to Iona, the woman already dead, lifting her and placing on his bed they had barely left, covering her now bloodied body in a sheet; staining immediately red. It took only a few seconds it seemed, the buckles of the leather armour doing themselves up, the boots unresisting as he tugged them up. He drew his sword, the shield sitting so readily on his left. With soft steps he left the room, eyes scouting for others. He spun, but relaxed as his furious mind remembered the voice and the name as his own,

"Dain, darling, what's happening?"

His mother ran to him, already garbed in well made leather armour, her strung bow slung over her shoulder. He gave a half grin, gesturing to the men lying in pools of their own blood, sheathing his sword.

"We are attacked Mother."

"What? But these are Howe's men, what are they doing in the castle?"

Well known white hot anger lanced and burned Dain, but this time he welcomed it, the fury of realisation and a focus for the anger in his mind.

"Howe, that treacherous bastard, he's betrayed Father!"

His mother's face paled, but he recognised the anger in her face,

"I'll cut that worm's throat myself. Dain, you're father didn't come to bed last night!"

She realised looking at him worry in her face,

"He might have stayed up with Howe. We'll find him."

Bear yipped in agreement. The Teryna turned, moving towards the main door before freezing and looking to him, the same thought occurring to him before she spoke.

"Oren, Oriana!"

"Oh no, the soldiers wouldn't have gone there first? Would they?"

Dain shouldered his mother back, his sword weaving in his hand as he opened the door. He recognised too well the smell of blood, but his mother ignored his effort to keep the door slanted over, instead she pulled the door right open. The single Cousland soldier had been cut down. In the corner of the room Oren still sat in his mother's arms, his intestines spilling from the vicious slash across his waist. Blood was still leaking from his little body, but there was no movement, no life. Dragging his eyes up from his dead nephew Dain looked at Oriana. Her dark eyes were open in terror, defensive wounds over her arms and shoulders as she had done all she could to protect her only son. But her head hung at an odd angle, her petrified face looking at them, her neck nearly hacked through from the back. The Teryna fell to her knees, hugging her arms around her chest, rocking and keening as she saw what had happened.

"Oh Maker, oh poor Fergus."

Dain blinked rapidly, unable to fathom the thing that could have done this. Could have treated a defenceless woman and her eight year old son so. And once more than anger rose, burning everything, he couldn't speak for fear he would spit fire. It was his mother who moved, dragging her body to its feet, grabbing his arm and pulling him after her. Away from that room, he was surprised she didn't wince back at the heat that surely surged from the fire in his gut.

"He's not even taking hostages. He means to kill all of us. Oh Dain, let's go I don't want to see this."

It was Bear, who warned him, but anger burnt down any sense of self preservation, one was flung back as he shouldered the door open, his sword and shield destroying the other, shocked at the furious eruption of the large man behind the previously quiet door. Bear wasn't silent either and he was everywhere. Tearing chunks of flesh, ripping open arteries in legs, going for throats, breaking bones in arms and legs with his massive teeth and jaws. Arrows fired through the air, whizzing through the space Dain had been an instant before, his sword swinging down to destroy a shield flung up in a last effort to cover. He spun but saw the last go down clutching in weaponless hands his throat as blood cascaded from the tear the arrow had left. Blood had showered over him and Bear, he felt it in his hair, on his face, and he spat it to the ground, rubbing his mouth on a gauntlet. His mother was clean, but fury shone on her face, and there was both the sweat of exertion and horror on her face.

"We have to find your father."

They moved from the family quarters carefully towards the atrium.

"The gate! That's where your father must be!"

"I will kill Howe for this!"

His mother caught Dain's shoulder, making him look at her. She couldn't hide the fear in her eyes as she saw the utter fury in his eyes, face and set shoulders. Fingers clenching and unclenching repeatedly as if even now they gripped Howe's neck and throttled him, watching the life leak from the treacherous man's face.

"No Dain listen. If something has happened to Bryce, you must find Fergus. You must tell him about Oriana, about Oren."

"What about you Mother, you shouldn't…"

A shocking cackle came from his mother's mouth, tears shimmering ready to fall,

"What do I care? My only grandson is a bloody corpse in his mother's dead arms!"

Her voice rose nearly hysterical, it was with visible effort she reined in her fears.

"Listen, Dain, the servant's exit, in the larder. If something happens to Fergus, you are the last of our line. You must avenge what has happened here! You must tell the King of Howe's treachery."

With everything inside Dain wanted to sweep aside the words of his mother draw his sword and destroy every one of Howe's men. But he didn't, with every ounce of self control he had learnt over those years apart from Highever and his family he pulled back his fury, pulling it back into control. But he let it burn; let it sit heavily in his gut.

"I will Mother. But let's try the hall, Father might be there."

She nodded, pushing back twines of hair from her face, tucking it back into the coil of braids at her neck.

* * *

><p>They were everywhere. But so were Bear and Dain. None of Howe's men had thought much of the news that Dain would be the Teryn while his brother and Father were in the south. None had seen him fight; even Howe had not seen him since he had returned. He was a crimson swathe through the soldiers. Fury and skill rendering him a giant as he stepped forward. Aided by the massive mabari and the ruthless arrows of his mother, firing so quickly and with never a miss. He and Bear burst into the hall, sweeping the battle before him in one look. Bear leapt forward grabbing the man's arm, rendering the swing useless, the man screaming at the mabari hanging from his flesh. Dain backhanded, taking the head of one as he attacked another. The glow of a mage flickered in his eye and he ducked before powering up, his weight behind the shield, ice striking it, oh so cold. But not enough. She went flying, crushed by that steel, this was the Cousland Shield he wanted to yell, but there was nothing to power his voice. She lifted a hand, the staff fallen from her grip. He lifted his boot and stamped on her chest, the crack of her ribs the only sound, the other soldiers downed by the few Cousland guards in the great hall. The Teryna looked at the broken thing he had left, an arm and several ribs broken already at the shield charge, but the callous stamp had destroyed her, her eyes frightened, slack now in brutal death. Dain looked up seeing his mother, white with shock, at the brutal murder of the woman. He said nothing, looking to Gilmore, the red haired knight even now reinforcing the heavy door battered from the other side. Dain sheathed his weapon, greeting the man with a heavy arm on his shoulder.<p>

"Rory."

Roland looked up, relief palpable.

"My lord, my lady!"

He said, seeing the Teryna move up, clad in leather armour.

"Have you seen my father?"

"Yes, he was badly wounded. But he wanted to find you; he headed towards the servants exit."

"We must find him!"

Dain looked to Gilmore, they both knew the situation, knew the course fate was taking, but even so both were so reticent to speak.

"They are Howe's men. They have betrayed us all."

Roland said his voice quiet. Dain tightened his hold on his best friend's shoulder, turning him so he could speak to him alone.

"I am so sorry Ror."

His friend looked up quickly, seeing the sorrow on his friend's face.

"Why…Dain?"

"I should have been here. The whole time, I shouldn't have let them send me away."

Roland managed a grin.

"No. What happened was up to the Maker, just as now is the Will of the Maker. Go, take the Teryna, someone needs to know of Howe and his moves this terrible night."

Roland turned back, speaking quickly to the Teryna her face full of sadness. Dain looked at the door, before turning back to his friend.

"Come with us."

He felt this heart crack at the sorrow on Roland's face, everything made him want to help, to halt the emotions that would break his friend so.

"If I did that you would never make it. Take your Mother, get to the Teryn."

"Then I will stay."

But his Mother was already pulling him to the door, Bear at his side, two more guards with them.

"Maker watch over you Roland."

Dain could only gape at his friend, barely catching his words before he turned to brace the door.

"Maker watch over us all."

If his mother had thought him frightening before. It was nothing compared to the fire that burnt inside him now. She saw again in him what had made her and her husband send him away five years ago. Some of Howe's men saw it too, trying to flee. But Bear, moved by his master's fury blocked their escape. And then Dain was upon them, the last managed to nock and fire an arrow before the sword nearly cut him in two. Dain didn't feel it, now turning to the kitchen, eyes barely registering the bodies of his Nan, the two elves. But they saw with great clarity his father, lying in a growing puddle of his own blood. Bryce looked up and saw them,

"Oh, there you both are."

Dain knelt, ignoring his father's blood. Gripping the cooling hand his father offered.

"We'll get you healing magic."

"Mother is right, come on I will drag you if I have too."

It was a strangled laugh that came from Bryce,

"Only if you are willing to leave pieces of me behind, Pup."

"Don't be silly Bryce."

But his mother's voice had no venom; instead it was filled with resigned sorrow.

"There isn't much time, the doors won't hold."

"The Teryn is right, there isn't much time."

Bear hadn't given him a warning about the man. Dain whipped his head around, but he recognised the man, something familiar. He was tall, bearded and was sheathing a sword covered in blood.

"We were worried about you Lady Cousland, Bryce and I tried to reach you sooner."

"You are Duncan, yes? The Grey Warden, my youngest helped me get here."

Duncan turned to look at Dain, nodding as if affirming something to himself.

"Yes, I am not surprised."

Bryce forced his words through his pain,

"Duncan, please I beg you, get my wife and son to safety."

"You have my word Bryce, but I must ask something in return."

"Anything."

Dain felt empty, the rage was gone, he was a husk, simply waiting for something to fill him once again. Bear crouched nearby; his presence at least helped a little. Duncan looked from the mortally wounded Bryce to his son. He had met the boy that brief once, but had heard more of him. Squired in the Free Marches he had returned barely two weeks previous. Gone was any vestige of adolescent gawkiness. He surpassed the elder Fergus in height, and breadth, his shoulders were massive. The arrow he could see in his shoulder hadn't been registered and seemed to not cause any penalty to movement. Even the rough accent of the Marches had left its mark on the boy, words not so cultured but still musical left his lips. He looked like both of his parents, strong in face as Bryce, but his mother's finer features, but tuned to masculine handsomeness. His hair was like Fergus's, long and barely shaped. He had seen the same promise of strength in Oren; he had seen the corpse of the boy and that of his mother. Now the Teryna's green eyes looked at him from her son's face, slack with spent fury and the subtle hints of exhaustion.

"The evil seen here tonight is nothing to that which makes its presence known in the south. I came here looking for a recruit; necessity dictates that I leave with one."

At this something in Dain's face flickered. Finally he frowned looking at his father and mother, but Bryce was already nodding.

"And you shall have one. Go with Duncan Pup, tell the King of Howe's treachery, in return become a Grey Warden."

"No! My place is here with you, I'll find Fergus then I'll take Howe apart limb from limb."

Duncan heard the shredding voice of a younger boy in Dain's threat, though he knew the man was capable.

"Pup…We Couslands have always done our duty first, always do what must be done. The Darkspawn, you must stand against them. Everything will fall if we do not."

Dain felt the crack in his heart widen, and when he spoke, it was in a whisper, hand still clenched tight against his fathers.

"I will Father. For you. I will tell Cailan…then I will stand as a Warden."

The Teryna was studying her husband,

"Are you sure Bryce?"

"Yes my dear, our son will not die for Howe's treachery."

She nodded, looking to Dain, he knew that look. He knew she was about to say something he didn't want to hear.

"Darling, go with Duncan."

"Mother…"

"Darling, you will have a better chance with just you and Duncan."

"My love, are you sure?"

She kissed her husband's forehead leaning over him, clutching at Dain's hand in his father's.

"Hush now Bryce, I will kill anyone of them that comes in here, but I will not leave you."

Duncan watched sadness that such an honourable family would come to such an end.

"Mother, no."

But there was no force in it, despite Dain's railing inside, he knew that his mother had made a decision.

"Go Pup; know that we love you so very much."

There was a thunderous roar, heads flicking towards the door, Duncan reaching to touch Dain's shoulder.

"The hall, the doors have broken we must go."

Dain turned a little,

"I love you both, so much."

"Go Pup, do great things."

Bryce said, he groaned at the end, the puddle beneath him growing as if finally something broke inside.

"I love you, goodbye. Darling."

Even though he rose and moved with Duncan, Dain couldn't take his eyes from his parents.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way, my love."

But finally he turned, running with the Warden. A few steps and he realised the cavern in his chest was his heart – it had finally broken.

* * *

><p>It was a frightening flight in the darkness. Dain gathered whatever was within to keep up with Duncan. The older man was fast, there was no sign of age as he moved. Bear stayed with him, a welcome heavy and known presence. They met no one; it was if the countryside was empty of everything, as if advance warning of Howe and his purpose had scoured the land clean. It was both a blessing and a curse. Dain wanted to fight, destroy something anything. Most of all he wanted to kill Howe erase him from the face of the world. Duncan could feel the rage of the boy behind him grow. He thought to tire him first, head as far as humanly possible straight away. But the boy kept up, the hate inside of him fuelling him long past his natural ability. It was past noon, the sun angling their shadows into long stretched parodies before Duncan stopped. Bear dove into the stream, gulping at the cold water, cooling his bloody paws. The blood of the enemy had dried on all three of them; Duncan sat on a log near the water, centring his breathing. Dain couldn't stand still; he ranged from Bear to the stream towards Duncan before back. He crouched next to the water, starting to reach for it when he stopped, finally seeing the arrow in his shoulder. Unthinking, he gripped it and yanked, watching with a disinterested look the red tip, the flow of blood trailing from the hole. Casting the arrow away, Dain dunked his hands revelling in the coolness, lifting a handful to scrub at his face, watching the dilute red drop back to the stream. Finally washing his wound, ignoring the new sting. Duncan watched, fresh worry dawning for the new man before him.<p>

"We travel south, towards the Hinterlands, the edge of the Korcari wilds. The army masses at Ostagar."

"I saw my father's maps. Does the King think that he will force them back in a final battle?"

It was a carefully monotone voice that spoke, Dain not turning. Duncan just looked at the boy's back. The Cousland sigil on the shield was barely visible under the stain of gore and blood.

"Your father told you of the King's strategy?"

"The little that he knew. Fergus told me some; we talked about it a little. Oren was in the room sleeping, we didn't talk long."

"What do you know of the Darkspawn?"

Duncan asked at this Dain turned, sliding to sit fully on the ground. Most of the gore was gone from his face and he rubbed it hard pressing at his eyes.

"Not much, not as much as I should I suppose. Like everyone else. We were told they were wiped out at the last Blight. But I always thought unless you have evidence and you've seen the end with your own eyes, it's never over. They come from the ground, so the only way to see if they are gone is to go under it. From the dwarves I've seen, heard and spoken to, there are still spawn in the Deep Roads. I am unsure totally what they are, but that means that they were never wiped out."

Duncan was impressed; he knew more than a lot of people. Especially open minded if he had willingly spoken and believed the dwarves who braved life on the surface.

"Do you know what constitutes a blight?"

Dain bent his neck to the side, stretching tight muscles.

"Father told stories of the arch demon, but I thought they were tales to frighten children."

Duncan stood, moving to kneel like Dain had, using the stream to wash his face, finally sipping at the water several times.

"I will tell you of the Archdemon then. Drink, then we continue. The journey to the south will be taken at a swift pace."

Dain nodded, drinking before standing, pushing his hair back, but this time when they set off he was at Duncan's side.

Duncan set a quick pace, but they spoke a little as they went. Mostly about the Blight, about the Darkspawn. He wouldn't say anything, but Dain was a little thankful to the Warden, his repeated speeches about the Arch demon stopped him from thinking on that last night. That last view of his doomed parents, his father bleeding out before his mother, more than likely to meet her end cruelly. But Duncan couldn't speak forever, and Dain was left alone that night. Taking the first watch, Bear crouching at his side, the dark around him morphing into the ruined shapes of Oriana, of Oren. The ache in his arm rising, it still wasn't bandaged, but Dain took a perverse happiness in that. A remnant of that night, something so tangible to take with him. He drew his dagger, digging at the dried blood lining his nails. Fury rose at the innocent swing of a lock of sweaty hair into his eye. Grabbing a length he swiped, pleasure at the lock of shorn hair in his hand. Slowly he worked shorter and shorter, finally running the sharp edge over his scalp, leaving a bare amount of his dark hair on his head. Bear watched with a slight whine in his throat, but it wasn't until he had finished that Dain patted the animal, scratching his head and rubbing the cropped ears.

Duncan said nothing when he saw it. It made the sea green eyes larger, more potent. They were red limned, as if he had been crying. But Dain had been dry eyed, no sadness only fury sitting in his chest. The Warden saw the fresh blood from the wound, but didn't offer a bandage; he would do that tonight, once he had again done his best to exhaust the young man.

Dain sloshed into the river, his leather armour shucked off quickly, the sweat stained shirt and leggings he wore underneath showing the path to the water. He relaxed his knees and dunked fully under. He rubbed at his head hard, fingers still unused to such short hair; all the while ignoring the sparks of pain from the wound in his shoulder. It wouldn't seal and still bled, surrounded skin swollen and red. But the coolness of the water numbed it somewhat. The temperature also going to cooling the exhaustion the quick travel had caused, as well as the easing the anger and sadness still rooted deep in his chest. Finally, when his skin had drawn up in tight goose pimples Dain left the water, pulling the stiff pants over wet legs, leaving his torso bare, his feet the same arms full of armour heading towards Duncan. The older Warden had already lit a fire, a slow to flee rabbit spitted over the flames.

"Would you let me help you with that?"

Duncan said, gesturing with a stick, the end blackened from sitting in the fire. Dain dropped his head, the wound now bleeding freely. He debated with himself whether he would let the man help, but was convinced to let the man help him; he would need his shield arm. He sat before the fire, Bear slinking to press hard against his leg. Duncan cleaned it with easy and precise movements; no doubt he had done the same to others, even to himself.

"How come you were in Highever?"

He asked, the silence drawing out too long. Duncan took his time however, wrapping the awkwardly placed injury before speaking.

"I had come looking for recruits, like I said. I thought that I would test Ser Gilmore."

Duncan didn't see the grin that appeared briefly on Dain's face.

"I heard that, it was nice to see Rory excited. But I didn't have a chance to really talk to him about. Bear had let himself into the larder again."

Tying the end off Duncan could see the light red stripes down Dain's back. He recognised them as not being from the frenetic battle, but wounds from another type of fight. He said nothing, but sat back. Dain moved to the opposite side of the fire, pulling on his undershirt and the leather armour, letting the buckles sit open. He hadn't had a chance to clean his shield, the blood and stains had dried, barely crumbling off. He poured some water from a water skin onto a ripped rag and rubbed half heartedly. Slowly the double laurels of the Cousland emblem came into view, rising from the red stained background.

"To be honest, I had my interest piqued by the stories your father told me."

There wasn't an answer, barely a change in the swipe of the rag as Dain digested those words.

"Yeah?"

Duncan took it as permission to keep speaking, so he did.

"He had received reports from the Free Marches, and he saw you spar some of the guards when you arrived home. He was impressed, that you had gone away a boy and returned a man."

"You would have asked Father to let me be a Warden?"

"I think I would have broached the subject and pursued it further, but I do not know whether he would have let me. With both he and Fergus heading to Ostagar, he was relieved that Highever would have been in your hands. I don't think having both of his sons in danger would have placated him in any way. Even having one named a Grey Warden."

"Now he is dead and he lost both sons regardless."

The words were flat, and Duncan recognised by the tone that the conversation was over; there would be no more talking this night. Instead he turned his gaze to the rabbit, watching it slowly roast, while also feeling with the taint within for any signs of danger.

* * *

><p>They saw no one as they travelled, Dain able to remember the old maps his father had shown him, trying to place their progress each day. They moved out of sight of Lake Calenhad, and from their journey towards the wilds Dain was sure that it would only be another day or two at the most. Until Duncan turned to him; they were both weary and travel stained, dirt engrained in the frown lines on Dain's face. He was unaware that his face was perpetually in that state.<p>

"We are close to Redcliffe."

Dain understood well, the Arl would be sending troops to Ostagar, though he was leaving the troop movement late. But he waited for Duncan to clarify his words.

"I must detour and see Arl Eamon."

"Do you wish me to come with you Duncan, camp here or continue to Ostagar?"

Duncan took a few seconds, studying the boy. He had done it several times since they had left Highever. The boy looked shattered. Heavy black lines ringed his eyes, though his movements and speed hadn't faltered; he was sure that Dain had barely slept more than a few hours since they had left. His jaw was once again clenched, pebbles of hard muscles distending his jaw though his words were careful.

"You will come with me. My meeting with the Arl will be private, but I think both of us will be glad for a nights sleep within the keep's walls.


	6. Chapter 6  The Haven of Redcliffe

**The Haven of Redcliffe**

He was sick of walking. When they stopped for a rest or slight pause his legs still felt like they moved. And Duncan's words of staying within Redcliffe's high walls filled him with relief. More than he would say. It was impressive, the long land bridge leading to the menacing castle, though Dain found it filled him with nostalgia, similar it was to the castle at Highever. He closed his mind angrily to the thought and concentrated on Duncan. The gate was raised quickly, evidence inside of the mobilisation of men, but fewer than he would have thought. Duncan was greeted by name, the Warden nodding, a stone hardness had settled on him. He wasn't greeted at all; maybe they thought him a Warden too, he had aged several years already. The doors to the main hall were opened as quickly, Duncan striding through, Dain, with Bear at his side, behind him. At the end of the hall a large fire burned, a tall figure in fine clothes spoke quietly to a knight, armour shining in the fire light. But when he lifted his head a grin lifted the stern face and the knight moved off dismissed. There was genuine delight in Eamon's face as he greeted Duncan, stepping off the small raised dais to embrace the man.

"Ho there Duncan, I glad to see you once more my friend."

Dain saw the genuine pleasure in both men's faces, soon their words turned to him. He recognised the look on Eamon's face as he looked at him. He moved up bowing to the man,

"Dain Cousland. I have heard much about you from your Father. Duncan has told me some of what has befallen Highever, you have my condolences young man, I loved your father and mother very much. I also hear that you are a recruit for the Wardens; you have received an honour Dain, though right now I think it may not feel like one. Please, make yourself at home; my seneschal will have a room prepared for you. Please excuse Duncan and I, we have much to discuss."

The bath was pure heaven, so hot it had taken a few minutes to get used to the temperature. Though now he lay fully, nearly totally submerged. With some effort he blanked his mind, just concentrating on the heat of the water, on the crack of the newly lit fire, the soreness in his arm. There was a knock at the door, Bear menacing with a growl.

"Enter."

Bear stood down at his words, but still guarded the door. A servant entered, the newly cleaned leather armour in his arms, with quick and knowing moves he placed it upon the wooden dummy, the rest of the clothes he placed on the bed.

"The Arl requests your presence tonight, along with the Grey Warden, for dinner. You have the run of the castle until tonight."

Dain nodded and the door closed. Sleep pressed at him, he had forced it back over the last few days. He wouldn't be leaving the room till the dinner. He stood up, Bear looking at him eagerly. With a nod the animal leapt into the now vacant stone bath. Dain slid into the bed, and curled up in the softness and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>He had stood before those fine, fine clothes for a long time. Bear sat, now mostly dry, watching his master. He never wished to wear those clothes again. During his sleep he had realised something, and he wasn't sure if it was the fug of sleep, but it still made sense. Duncan and his Father had been right. Duty came before all else. The most, the very centre of Him could hope for was that his new Duty as a Warden Recruit would cross paths with Howe. Oh how he wished that. Dain turned, grabbing the under tunic and long leggings and turned to his newly cleaned armour. This was him now. He tightened the buckles, and swore never to be without a weapon, sliding the beautifully balanced knife into the sheath at his back. He even attached the gauntlets, tightening the leather cords against the inside of his wrists. There was a mirror on the armoire, he turned to it. He didn't recognise himself, the loss of his hair only part of it. His eyes were hard, like a piece of glass, lack of sleep had given him bruises ringing them, but they only served to make him look older. How he looked older. He had seen that same cragged experience and carriage every day in his travelling companion. In the short time they had known each other; Duncan's manner was shifting to Dain. He frowned heavily and turned aside from the mirror, reaching to yank open the door. A young boy kicked up from the wall and Dain froze, Oren? Though he knew it to be false, this boy was older, blonde hair where Oren's had been brown. He was whole and even offering a smile.<p>

"Good evening, I am Connor. My Father is the Arl."

Dain bowed,

"Greetings Master Connor. I am Dain. And this is Bear."

The mabari's nails clicked even on the stone, but the animal was a mess. His whole rear end moving with the wag of his small tail. He saw the glee light up Connor's face. The pat Dain gave Bear was permission and the war dog leapt up to Connor, licking and snorting as he smelled the boy. The lad laughed the straight back and face gone. Dain thought if he smiled his face would crack, in fact nothing showed. Connor looked up and sobered up somewhat, hands still scratching at Bear's ears.

"I said I would bring you to the table. We're having lamb. The smell has been coming through the castle all afternoon."

Dain fell into an easy step with Connor; Bear on the boy's other side. It was an easy arrangement though Dain didn't really listen to Connor's words, merely nodding when the boy looked at him. It wasn't really a maze of hallways, they quickly moved to the stairs down to the main floor; Connor was right, Dain didn't know how he hadn't smelt the scent of cooking lamb earlier. There was the low hum of speech as they entered the hall. The Arl spoke to a still armoured Duncan in a corner to themselves; the sweet lull of an Orlesian accent came from a beautiful woman, the Arlessa Isolde, who spoke to a few women sweet laughter on their lips. Connor swept past them all, Bear at his heels. Isolde saw him; she seemed ready to scold him until she smiled. One of her women said something evidently witty for she laughed again. There were a few guards placed around the hall, long tables had been set up though there seemed seating for only six. Eamon, Isolde, Connor, Duncan and himself, he didn't know the last. Eamon looked up at Connor's laughter and Bear's puppy like behaviour,

"Come Dain."

At his name the woman looked up, finally seeing the recruit Duncan had from the ravaged castle, the dead Teryn's youngest son.

"My men will be ready in a week; there have been sporadic darkspawn sighting around the Arling. Please tell my nephew to give me more time."

"Do you think he will listen to you?"

Dain said, interjecting, assuming that since he had been invited into the conversation that he could contribute.

"With the relationship that we have I would like to say yes. But he has ever been caught up in the glory of the 'stories' of the occupation, not the realism that I tried to enforce."

Though Eamon seemed to have answered truthfully, Dain's abrupt question had damped any other words. He looked at Duncan, offering an apology in the looks, but something else seemed to be troubling the Warden. Perhaps his words had touched upon something true? Eamon coughed,

"The last place is for my younger brother Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere; he stopped in for a very short visit on his way to Denerim. I managed to make him stay to meet you Duncan, and now you too Dain. He shouldn't be long."


	7. Chapter 7 Ostagar and the King

_I got a little tired of writing about this section of time. Wynne's intro is quite short and I dont go into the wilds or the joining at all. Perhaps I will come back to it and rewrite and add bits. But right now am having too much fun writing the rest. If you have any ideas or desperately need me to write about the above just message me. Ta._

* * *

><p><strong>Ostagar and the King<strong>

The ruins of Ostagar were a stunning sight, even crumbling they more than hinted at their previous majesty during the years of Tevinter power, even now after centuries. Dain kept his legs moving as he lifted his head and tried to take in all of the towering relics while still following Duncan in a reasonably straight line.

"There have been several small battles against the darkspawn. And it is here that the horde will show itself."

They had left Redcliffe before dawn a day previous, Duncan keen to arrive in Ostagar quickly. Dain didn't show his own urgency, to tell the King of what had transpired in Highever, of Howe's treason. Unbeknownst to him his fists clenched tight again, Bear letting loose a short whine as he trotted along behind the men. Dain dropped his head, seeing a glint of something gold beyond the steps to a huge watch tower. He frowned, trying to figure out what it was, he was about to ask Duncan when he heard the older Warden exclaim,

"Your majesty, I wasn't expecting…"

"A royal welcome. Come on, we'll be shedding blood together soon enough. The other wardens said you would find a promising recruit in Highever, is this he? I must say, you look familiar."

Dain looked at the King before him, clad in bright gold heavy armour, an easy grin on his face, young, younger than he thought his long hair nearly the same colour as his armour. He found he had been expecting someone like Mac Tir, despite what his father had told him of the King; the man before him did correlate to someone to stand at the front of such an army. But nonetheless he took the offered hand, shaking it slowly; he coughed, summoning his voice. He didn't want to look at Duncan, afraid that his confusion at the first encounter of the King would show on his face.

"Greetings your Majesty. I bear terrible news from the north."

Dain found himself relieved when his news struck home, concern and maybe a little anger in Cailan's face.

"News is slow to reach us in Ostagar, what do you mean? And where is the Teryn, I sent his son to scout the Wilds with the few men he sent?"

It was only the firm grip Bear had on his hand that stopped him from erupting forward. To send Fergus into the Wilds as a scout, he was a soldier not a scout! Duncan must have seen the sudden fury in Dain for he answered.

"This is the Teryn's youngest Dain. The Teryn will not be coming, your majesty."

"Why not?"

"Because he is dead! Killed when Howe showed himself a traitor and took Highever."

Dain spat out, his fury obvious even to Cailan now.

"What? Howe has killed Bryce."

"Killed everyone your majesty, and would have killed Dain and I to stop any word of his activities."

Dain dropped his head, unable to look at the King or the guards standing behind him. Bear released his hand and licked it in apology, he didn't feel it. Cailan turned away and paced a little,

"I can scarce believe it. Dain?"

He lifted his head, looking at the bright spark that was the King.

"You have my word; as soon as we are done here I will turn my army north. I'm sorry, but I cannot send for your brother, I do not think he will be back until after the battle."

When Dain managed to answer, his voice held the weight of his broken heart.

"I am not eager to tell him your majesty. But thank you."

Cailan was silent a little while longer.

"I would think not. But I must cut this short; Loghain wishes to lecture me further on strategies against the darkspawn."

Dain felt his face draw further into a frown. Seeing and speaking to Fergus had been driving him, to tell him about their parents, about Duncan's accepted offer. But now there was no chance to talk with his brother for some days. He perked up at Cailan and Duncan's conversation,

"You sound very confident of that."

He said without thinking. But Cailan grinned,

"Over confident some might say, eh Duncan?"

Dain dashed a look to Duncan, the barest hint of frustration in his eyes though it was quickly stifled. He bowed to the King as he walked off, but looked at Duncan for an explanation.

"Does he have any real…experience in battles?"

"Some yes."

Dain frowned at Duncan's diplomatic answer.

"He seems to have a lot of faith in the Wardens; does he also think that you are invincible? If he plans to fight at the front rank with them, does he think that he is?"

There was no reply. Dain didn't think that boded well.

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><p>There was the all pervading stench of men living in close proximity with each other, a lack of sanitation and the packs of mabari no army would be without. The last breath of fresh air had been as he had stepped slowly over the massive and high bridge. Some of it was crumbling, but it felt so solid beneath his feet. Bear had trotted happily alongside Duncan, but right now Dain felt good about taking even this short time alone. He didn't really meet any of the soldiers' eyes, the reception with the king and no doubt the news that Duncan was bringing a recruit had sent his arrival and identity ringing around the camp lightning fast. With the barking of mabaris and the ring of weapons came the sound of prayers. He halted, sight taken by the templars guarding several mages.<p>

"You can't stop here ser, not even the Wardens can disturb the mages whilst they are in the fade."

"My apologies."

Dain continued on, feeling a little bewildered. Even being with so many others in the Marches, this was something else entirely.

"You are one of Duncan's recruits."

The speaker was an elderly woman, dressed in the rose coloured robes of a senior enchanter.

"I am my name is Dain."

He wasn't sure whether to offer his hand, she noticed the slight hesitation and she grinned.

"I am Wynne, one of the mages who came from the tower. Where did Duncan find you young man?"

"In Highever."

"Have you fought darkspawn before?"

"No ma'am. Just men."

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><p>He heard the rather one sided argument before he saw the two. One was obviously a mage though he bore no staff; the other looked like a soldier. Before he even spoke he knew this was Alistair. His light coloured hair looked as though some time had been spent upon it; his was the first grin he had seen in his walk around Ostagar. That alone made him smile. Manners drummed into him had Dain stopping a few feet away to let them finish the argument. But the last sentence from the mage was directed at him,<p>

"Out of my way, fool."

The embers of anger flared a little and made Dain want to test out the prowess of the mage. But he swallowed and stepped to the side watching the man go before turning back to Alistair.

"You know, the one thing about the blight is how it brings people together."

Alistair's words were perversely observant, with still that grin upon his face. The words made him think back to Howe's attack upon Highever, taking advantage of the blight perhaps, the call from the King at least.

"Unfortunately I know what you mean."

His laugh was the same, then a glint of recognition birthed.

"Have I met you? You aren't a mage…are you?"

"Got a habit of pissing off mages have you? I'm not though, probably would have made your day worse if I was."

"Just thinking of the chances of me becoming a toad. I do know you, Duncan's recruit?"

"And how would you know that?"

"Duncan sent word that he was meeting a recruit in Highever. Said he was a knight, but to be honest you don't really look like any knight I know."

A flash of cold feeling flashed down Dain, Rory.

"I don't think I'm the recruit that he spoke of, but the one that was left. So to speak."

"You're not…Raymond, Reagan. Roland? Um, he said that there was another potential, the son of the Teryn. That he had been sent back from the…oh."

The Warden looked like a kicked puppy.

"Well, I'm Alistair. As the junior of the Order I'll be accompanying you as your prepare for the Joining."

All said without meeting Dain's eye. Duncan had spoken about the Joining, but judging by the lack of forthcoming information that he wouldn't learn much until he was undertaking it.

"The argument before, a one off or do you just have trouble making friends?"

"Um, well. I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult. Before I was a Warden I was a Templar. So sending me on an errand…"

"So 'people joining together in a blight', subtlety not her strong suit then."


	8. Chapter 8 Once upon a time in Lothering

_Again got a little bored with this piece if writing. But I will fastforward a little and intro Leliana and Sten in the following ones._

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><p><strong>Once upon a time in Lothering<strong>

The walking was fine, it was the silence that made Dain's teeth grind. His treacherous mind would replay everything, the hole in the tower divulging spawn, the terror of realising the potential disaster if the signal fire wasn't lit. And then the hulking man eating ogre. The two that had accompanied them, the mage and foot soldier had fought bravely. But the fire that burnt from his long sword shuddered and died as the mage was crushed in a clawed fist. The soldier had snapped in two with a backwards kick from the terrible enemy. Despite the seemingly invincible mass of flesh, working together he and Alistair had finally killed it, Alistair climbing up the huge torso to sink his weapon into its eye socket and through to its brain. Relief had been immense, though their next act to light the fire was still rushed. But then the tidal wave of black arrows had rained upon them, studding the already still body of Bear, broken and quiet. Behind them a mass of darkspawn. Sharing a look they had lifted their swords; the arrows hadn't been registered as pain but merely as thuds, pushing him back several steps. Black invaded and he couldn't follow Alistair in the charge.

But awakening in that hut, the sound of his own shout had yanked him from the sleep he had been under. And there had been in the girl from the Wilds, Morrigan, with the news of the destruction left behind them in Ostagar…Dain shook his head, trying to physically dispel the images in his head, what he hadn't seen with his own eyes his traitorous imagination was coming up with such terrible visions. Of Duncan twisted and bloody, Cailan and then the spectre of Loghain behind them all. How could someone swear to protect his country to stand beside the son of his best friend and leave them all to such a death at the hands of such a terrible enemy! Instead of the acid of bile rising to his tongue, instead it was the metallic offal taste of the blood he had drunk as his part in the Joining. It was like an oil slick upon his tongue, nothing seemed to shift the dead taste.

Flicking his hand down to his side was an unconscious gesture, but this time there was no wet snout, to press of a warm back against his fingers. The loss of the last thing tying him to Highever and his family had spiralled down the void of the cavern left where his heart had been. He felt adrift, no not quite. The thing that anchored him now walked not beside him but close by, he too had felt utter desolation; was feeling it. They were Wardens together. Dain looked at Alistair, like him the templar had not spoken many words since leaving the apostate Flemeth's hate, though his glances at Morrigan had been filled with more than enough. Dain lifted his hand, clicking the fingers in what he hoped a nonchalant gesture. But it had Alistair looking at him. With unspeaking comradeship he didn't break their silence either and turned to look ahead, the Wilds finally thinning, finally looking something like the road to Lothering.

The King's Highway looked like it had seen better days. Despite Morrigan's words of stopping in Lothering, Dain wanted to continue on it and head away and to Redcliffe as soon as possible. But the group of obvious bandits lounging before carts of goods took that slim option away. Heat curled through is limbs and Dain wanted a fight. It didn't take long.

"Good afternoon, ten silvers is the toll."

Dain shook his head at the man's ready stupidity. He halted, hearing Morrigan mumbling about the men, ready to indulge her wish of showing them the error of their ways. Lying close by a dead templar, Alistair eyeing it up as he moved to Dain's side.

"We are no ordinary travellers."

Alistair said, perhaps he too saw their poor judgement.

"Look I'm not here for a philosophical discussion, pay the toll or else."

Dain didn't speak, merely eyeing up the only one who looked to give him any sort of trouble.

"I'll take the latter."

His sword and Cousland shield seemed to leap into his hands. One fell back and then down to a rush with the shield and then it was he and leader. The man in the midst of a downward swing was frozen, with a second thought kick as Dain took a sword clash, he shattered. More than one bandit flinching back. With a careless backhand he took the man's sword and cut deep into his hand. He fell to his knees his men taking his cue and flinging their weapons away.

"Alright, alright! We give up, please. We're just trying to make a living."

Dain snorted, a spatter of the bandit's blood across his face. His weapons were not sheathed, the leader eyeing them not the man who bore them.

"A living? I think that the goods that you have taken will do some good to those in the village you have taken them from."

"What? We worked for those!"

It was a lazy movement; Dain found himself easily making the decision and acting upon it. The man's severed head hit the ground and rolled, blood spurting up from the stump. Morrigan was quick, as if she had expected or even rally known that he would do what he had done. A roar of fire and another was burning arms flailing. It seemed really only a few heart beats and it was quiet. Dain knelt to clean his sword on one of the dead men's clothes.

"Are we really going to give all this away?"

"Not away Morrigan, back. And yes, we are."

Leaving the bodies Dian led the way to the end of the broken highway and looked out on to the village below. There were tents everywhere, refugees had been entering the area and seemed slow to leave.

"Ah, Lothering. Pretty as a…well not much I suppose."

Morrigan shook her head,

"So, decided not to fall upon your sword in grief have we?"

Dain touched Alistair's arm, whatever retort the man could come up with was always going to sparred effortlessly by Morrigan who would have a poisonous riposte ready and waiting on the tip of her tongue.

"Enough you two. You have been quiet Alistair."

The man turned and leant on the stone wall eyes looking towards the Chantry, but Dain didn't think he saw it.

"Yes well. Have you ever lost…Stupid me. Of course you have. Duncan…"

Dain stood next to him,

"Yeah, I have. And I realise Duncan was like a father to you. We will avenge him Alistair, all of them. We will do what we have to with the blight. And if fortune favours us, Loghain will be in the way of that."

"We will? But you didn't know Duncan well."

"Not like you knew him Alistair. But he gave me this, being a Warden. He gave you me as my new brother. I do honour him, just perhaps not in the same way as you."

Alistair's shoulders slumped and he looked at Dain. Both had heavy rings under their eyes, strain clamping their jaws, looking older than their years.

"He said he came from Highever, perhaps when this is all over I can go there."

Even the name of his home was like a roundhouse to the jaw, but Dain made himself nod.

"Sounds like a plan. Perhaps then, that I will go with you when you go."

"You know, I think that he would like that. I think I would too. But enough of this, have you decided what we are doing? I assume you've looked at the treaties."

"Me? You are the senior warden Alistair."

"Well I don't know what to do. You decide and I'll just follow you."

"Oh, we are to be surprised that Alistair chooses rather to follow that to lead?"

"Morrigan."

But there was a smirk on her face and Dain knew there were further words to be spoken,

"Come on, he stands there like a brainless calf, I cannot help but speak."

"And here I'm supposed to be surprised that you have never had a friend or a true emotion outside of derision."

"Both of you cut it out."

In his mind Dain heard the ghost of one of Bear's savage growls. If the others had heard it they would have paled and moved back. But apart from narrowing their eyes at each other, at least their words were stilled.

"I think doing what you said back at Flemeth's to be the best option. The Arl will have all his men, he wouldn't stand for Loghain's treachery and it will give us a safe port of call."

"So we head to Redcliffe now?"

Dain frowned and looked to the Chantry,

"No. Now we head into that and find some news, supplies and hopefully, perhaps, some good news."


	9. Chapter 9 A Cloistered Sister

_Thanks to everyone who is reading and set up for chapter alerts. Please also review!_

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><p><strong>The cloistered sister<strong>

It felt like he had been staring at the soldier for eons. Everything outside of those eyes was a blur. Hatred had coloured everything in a haze of red. He had lied. He had left the King and the Wardens, Duncan! To die at the hands of the darkspawn and now was blaming it upon him, upon Alistair, the last two remaining Wardens in all of Ferelden. Sweat beaded and rolled down the man's forehead. He was a veteran, but when the warrior and those who followed him and entered the loud tavern he seemed to take up so much room. But then those eyes had swept him and his men in a simple glance, he had spoken told him what his rescuer, his leader had said and the eyes had grown even harder. There had been no movement towards him or even in reply to the sweet Orlesian words from the Chantry sister. No move had been made to the hilt of the sword rising over his shoulder, he hadn't even blinked.

"The Wardens are traitors now."

The words were soft, as accented as the sisters had been, though his was undoubtedly that of the Marches to the North. Inside, Dain's lungs had seized. He had barely heard the sister's quiet words. So they were traitors. Hunted once again, barely twenty years after Maric had allowed them to return. The anger seemed pleased when he lifted his hand to grasp the hilt,

"No! We should talk about this!"

"Talk is over."

The _shiing_ of the sword galvanised everyone into action rather than his words. Dain side stepped the leader and found it so easy to disarm his second in charge. The tip of his sword slid through his throat, before the blood spattered onto the ground of the tavern, Dain had already turned away to take on the next. Alistair was fighting another, his blows not testing, but driven too by the words spoken by the man, Morrigan seemed to be toying with another, his legs were frozen, his face caught in a rictus of terror as he looked at the apostate who seemed eager for his death to be far off, and to his surprise the sister hadn't spun and hid. Instead she held a slim dagger and was wielding it with cool nearly off hand expertise. Dain parried the hurried blow half heartedly and bent his elbow savagely, cracking into the darker man's nose. It exploded in blood and cartilage, as he slid to the ground at the numbing pain Dain touched the sharp tip of his blade to the man's throat. It was the move that stopped everything. Alistair had the upper hand but froze, looking to Dain for cues.

"Good, now let's sort this out."

"There is nothing to sort out, this man would kill me, this man does not know the truth."

"Please, ser."

The tough character had gone, he was nothing before Dain.

"No! Please, somebody."

"I say get rid of them all, they will only serve to get in our way again in the future."

He knew that would always have been Morrigan's reaction, and right now that was his thought exactly. Dain knew that Alistair would do as he would. But he saw the Warden looking out the corner of his eye at the sister, ignoring the sword dripping blood to the already stained ground, instead looking at the stricken expression on her face. How could she not know that this was already cemented when the man had confronted them all, he knew it, his men and Dain and his friends knew it? But nonetheless Dain's sword didn't move, not pressing forward but not backing off.

"Show mercy."

That word made him jerk. Angry eyes flicking up to look at the woman; to take her in properly.

"Do you think that if this situation was reversed that any mercy would be shown to me and mine?"

She couldn't answer; perhaps she had been in this sort of situation. After all she used that sword as an extension of herself. Dain looked back down at the man, but for the life of him he could not make that sword move forward. In an instant the anger broke,

"You tell Mac Tir, tell him that the Wardens know the truth."

He flicked the sword away from the man's neck, sheathing it in a smooth movement. There was a pause in the freed man's movement, as if he couldn't believe it. But it was gone, his men gathering themselves in a single surge to the door, a couple grabbing the lifeless body of their comrade ad dragging him out. Dain didn't turn to watch them go, instead he watched the woman leave the kitchen. In her worn hands was a mop, and slowly she swiped at the blood that had covered the wooden floors.

"Thank you, for letting them go."

"Hmmm."

Dain was in sudden need of ale, but as he made to turn and leave the woman she gestured, reaching out a hand to stop him before it dropped back to her side; the sword now strapped to her back.

"Um, I'm sorry. It is true though, you being a Grey Warden?"

"And if it is? I cannot be of help to a Chantry sister."

Though before she had seemed to eloquent before, now words seemed to have deserted her.

"I am Sister Leiliana; a cloistered sister here is Lothering."

"You handle that sword well for a sister."

Alistair offered, turning her pale cheeks into a blaze of red.

"Oh, I was not always a sister. But you are Wardens, and you could use my help. So I am coming with you."

Dain felt an eyelid flicker at her words and at the fact that she now seemed to earnest. Her earlier awkwardness was gone. He'd seen that same rightness of thought in his mother. It would take time to disavow her of this notion. He turned to look at Alistair, the man already looking at him,

"We could always use more allies."

"And why Leiliana, would you want to help us?"

"Because the Maker told me too."

"If you accept your head must have been cracked worse than mother thought."

Dain frowned, but instead of making a decision straight away, he signalled to the barkeep and fell into a chair, ignoring the blood around him. The others took their cue, Leiliana looking at him carefully knowing she needed to sway him.

"He sent me a vision."

Dain took a deep swig from the clay tankard.


	10. Chapter 10 A Qun and a Campsite

**A Qun and a Campsite**

Apparently it was disconcerting. Dain didn't find it that. In fact he found it refreshing. The silence that Sten carried with him. Since giving into the religious based logic of Leiliana and the vision from her Maker, life had been narrated nonstop by Orlesian accented words. Many words. Morrigan openly showing her scorn, Alistair nothing less than enraptured by the slender, now leather garbed Orlesian woman. But Sten. The large dark skinned Qunari walked like a cat, silent but with the strength and skill to back his presence up. Perhaps it was his part indifference to the prospect of being saved and not being saved from the Chantry sanctioned cage. He had been nonchalant at the surprise of Alistair and Leiliana at the callousness of the Revered Mother to leave him helpless in the tide of the oncoming darkspawn. Dain couldn't fully grasp the hugeness of the task before him and Alistair. But it made obvious sense to have those with him that could push him towards the possibility of attaining his goal. He stood in silence as quiet as the Qunari, going over in his mind what his options were.

"What are you called?"

"I am Sten of the Beresaad."

Dain just nodded, but there was unsettling conflict in his mind. Could he leave the Qun here? Could he take him with him, offering nothing more than pain, fighting and darkspawn? At least with him there was a fighting chance.

"Would you follow with me if I let you free…out? I embark upon a quest of dire importance."

He had the terrible feeling as the Qun continued to stare at him, of being measured and being found unworthy.

"You are one of the Grey Wardens of this land?"

He doubted the Qun was capable of incredulity, but Dain was sure the words more than implied it.

"I am, as is Alistair."

"Even I have heard tell of these warriors, though I see that not all legends are true."

There was no hint of grin as Dain's eyebrows jutted down. The Qunari had seemed to strike at the heart of his conflict with his monotonous words. Dain was fully aware that he needed him more than the Qunari needed him; he seemed to have made peace with the fact that his death was nigh inevitable.

"Here is a fine strong creature, 'tis a shame to see him locked up."

Alistair's surprise was in his words,

"Oh, that's not something I'd expect you to say."

"I think Alistair should be in his place."

Dain thought he could actually hear Alistair wilt at her reply. It wasn't doing his case of Sten joining him and the others any good. All that was missing was a single white eyebrow lifting in question.

"Would the Revered Mother set you free?"

"It was the she who ordered me placed in this cage."

It settled it. Leiliana opened her mouth and once again narrated their passage.

Despite the arguments Dain had been having with himself about how to convince the Revered Mother to release the Qun. It was Leiliana who had offered the reason why, the swift and bloody murder of an entire family. Dain couldn't help the flinch as a shattered memory of Oren and Oriana flashed into his mind. The Mother saw it, but being in mid sentence and in full flight she drew no attention to it. Though the swiftness of Leiliana's words had started to wear, they were the ones listened too. The Mother passed the keys to Dain as Leiliana spoke. He bowed and left, waiting outside the doors to the small room as Alistair and Leiliana knelt to receive a blessing.

"Not a believer then? A surprise."

Dain didn't offer anything. To disavow her of that notion or not. Instead that image of Oren's toothless grin as he had returned back from so long away from his family, shone in his eyes. Spinning he led the way from the doomed Chantry.

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><p>Dain watched as Morrigan made her own campsite some distance away from their own, complete with its own campfire. Sten paced idly, though Dain thought that if he had been cramped inside that cage fro as long as that large being had, the notion of lying down would have been more pressing. He sat on the ground, the sword close to his hand, watching Alistair and Leiliana, the latter aghast at what the Warden had planned for dinner. Freshly skinned hares lay near the fire, Leiliana by now clearly desperate fought to keep Alistair's hands from them. Dain rolled his shoulders, relief at sitting and at chucking the armour made him feel taller and stretched at the unrestricted movement. The campfire did a good job in repelling the shadows, the looming shapes of the small tents offering some barrier to the darkness that wasn't dispelled.<p>

The images were like lightning, shuddering muscles and instant flashes of pain. At the last Dain wrenched his eyes open, rubbing his eyes. His face was wet as if he had been in the rain. But the smell of fear sweat assailed him. Groaning he found his polishing rag and swiped it over his face. But he knew there was no more rest to be found here, and with the bare glow of the fire through the fabric walls of his tent he floundered outside. Alistair sat close to the fire, it seemed that his gaze had been on Dain's tent for a while.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Had sleep, the nightmares didn't let me keep it."

Alistair smiled weakly.

"The nightmares? Oh those. Um Dain, those aren't nightmares. Some of the older Wardens called it the darkspawn hive mind. Welcome to a life time of terrifying spawn dreams."

"And the dragon?"

"The dragon, yes I suppose it does look like one. That is the arch demon. And that terrible nerve grating sound, Duncan said it was the arch demon speaking to its spawn, some said they could understand it. But I never could. To be honest, doesn't seem to be something that I would really want to concentrate on."

They sat in silence for a time.

"It's not going to get better is it?"

"Nope, the opposite. I suppose we didn't really get to tell you did we? The dreams steadily get worse, the demon calling to the taint in us. Each warden really only has around thirty years."

Alistair watched Dain carefully as he explained. Never did the younger Warden waver from what he said, though even as he spoke them it made him want to weep.

"The taint gets worse and worse, like the blight sickness, eventually turning Wardens into ghouls, desperate to do the arch demon's wishes. Before that happens, the Wardens head to the Deep Roads and find dark spawn. Take as many of them down before…"

Dain just nodded,

"I guess there is always darkspawn down there then."

"Duncan said that he was hearing the voices all the time; that it wouldn't be long before he too would leave. Part of me is glad that he…But…"

"Thanks for telling me this Alistair."

"Yeah, of course. Always here for terrible news, Warden surprises and witty one liners. But seen as how you are up, I guess we can make an early break for Redcliffe."

Dain nodded, darting a look to the sky to see if there was any tell tale brightening of dawn. There wasn't.


	11. Chapter 11 For Redcliffe

**For Redcliffe**

"Can I talk to you?"

Dain turned to Alistair, his friend suddenly awkward, more awkward as he couldn't meet Dain's eyes. But Dain raised a hand, the others halting and he moved with Alistair further away.

"Are you okay Alistair?"

The Warden ran his hands through his hair, pulling at his fringe before dropping his hands,

"Did I ever tell you how I knew Eamon exactly?"

Dain frowned, not liking the start of this conversation, but he was careful in his stance, avoiding the need to cross his arms, instead hooking one hand through his belt.

"You said that you were fostered by him when you were young."

Alistair stumbled over his words, dropping his head avoiding Dain entirely. In reply to the sad angle of Alistair's stance he lifted a hand and placed it on his shoulder,

"Speak to me Alistair, we are friends, companions. Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm a bastard. My mother was a maid by father was the King; Eamon took me in after my mother died. There, that's it."

Dain nearly smiled, but didn't simply nodding.

"So, you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard?"

That got him; Alistair looked at Dain, a grin playing at his lips, one already on Dain's.

"Yes I suppose it does at that. I should use that line more often."

But soon the grin faded and Alistair sighed,

"I should have told you, but part of me liked you not knowing. It changed the way everyone thought of me, Duncan was the only one that knew and he did. Treated me different that is, it happened at Ostagar."

"At Ostagar? Cailan ordered us both to the Tower. Did Cailan know?"

"Yes, I met him once before, at Redcliffe when we were children."

"Does Loghain know?"

"I don't see why not."

Dain shook his head,

"I'm sorry that you didn't think you could trust me Alistair."

The templar made to speak, but Dain shushed him with a quick gesture and continued.

"But I think I understand, but lets keep that the last thing we keep from each other, yes?"

Alistair nodded, but still looked awkward.

"I will treat you as Alistair, Alistair. Warden with some slightly interesting hobbies, cheese being one."

"And a minor fascination with my hair."

Alistair laughed, but there was lightness in his mien now. Dain patted his shoulder and they turned as one to the others. Only Sten and Morrigan looked utterly uncaring as to what they had spoken about, the serious faces that had now changed to laughter. Leiliana looked curious but though her eyes were alight with questions she didn't say anything. Though she may have been about to, but the appearance of a single man blocking the bridge towards the village and the castle. Dain stepped forward, Alistair close behind him. The man seemed bewildered and relieved to see travellers, well armed and obviously skilled ones also.

"So you heard. You've come to save us."

"About the civil war, yes we've heard. We're here to talk to the Arl, where is he?"

The man stumbled, visibly choking back a sob.

"Where is he? He could be dead for all we know."

A tremor of terrified laughter shimmered through his words. Leiliana frowned, wanting to step forward and offer some sort of solace. Dain frowned heavily, but placed his hand on the shorter man's offering without speaking some sort of comfort. Alistair had gone pale at the man's news.

"Dead? What are you talking about?"

"No one mans the walls, no one answers any shouts."

He couldn't get out anymore words, tears running down his face and joining the sweat. Dain shared a look with Alistair.

"What are our options?"

The man lifted his head, looking at the two warriors before him.

"Teagan! I can take you to Teagan; he'll know what to do."

At the name Alistair looked at the man,

"Bann Teagan, he's here?"

"Yes, yes. Follow me."

The man whipped out from Dain's hand and sprinted off. Alistair was quickly behind him the others following.

* * *

><p>The smell of smoke was heavy, those standing in the square in front of the chantry looked so tired, exhausted even. Wonder appeared on their faces as Dain and his friends appeared. He didn't stop walking, but took in the area, the tortured souls who looked too frightened to move too far from the massive chantry doors. The man wrenched open the doors, Dain entering at the front of the group, his boots and that of those behind him became a successive cacophony of sound that had all of those inside the huge church turn to look at them. The familiar looking Teagan was already speaking to the man who had led them at the mad dash. Dain didn't slow or quieten his steps, but kept walking further until he stood before the Bann. The man didn't look relaxed, there were massive shadows dug deep under his eyes, his eyes were rimmed in red and there were dagger like creases beside his mouth.<p>

"Tomas, go report to Murdoch and then Ser Perth."

Tomas bowed and spun, heading back out to the terrified outside. Dain watched him leave out the corner of his eye before focussing back on Teagan. The man was running a slightly trembling hand through his dishevelled hair; he didn't look at the new arrivals. Instead he seemed focussed more on his thoughts.

"How can I help you?"

"I think it's how we could help you. Judging by the atmosphere outside, and that inside. You need aide."

"And who are you to offer help?"

There was a bare edge of anger in Teagan's quick reply, Dain didn't bat an eyelid.

"Bann, I am a Grey Warden. I've met you several times, the latest a few weeks ago in the castle with your brother and his wife."

Teagan's brows met in consternation, Alistair moved up, standing next to his leader.

"Um, Teagan. The last time you saw me I was a child…and covered in mud."

The frown deepened but Teagan focussed on Alistair. Then the confusion cleared and he moved to embrace his nephew.

"Alistair! I never thought…how are you here?"

"We were saved at Ostagar; we came here to see Eamon."

Teagan's face fell at his elder brother's name. He looked at Dain; he looked the same, bar the metal armour he wore and he looked harder than he had those bare weeks ago. He sighed but spoke.

"I don't know what Tomas has told you. There are no guards on the wall; no one answers my shouts…then at night."

His formally strong and elegant voice stuttered and stopped. Dain spoke, giving the man time to gather his emotions.

"Let me introduce the others, Morrigan, Sten and Leiliana."

Teagan managed to give them all a noble nod, there was surprise in his eyes as he looked at the mage and the Qunari, ending with the relatively safe Leiliana but returned to Dain. There was something in his eyes that made Dain frown.

"You know that I left for Denerim and the Landsmeet the same day that you and Duncan left for Ostagar. Dain I was there when Loghain returned. The Landsmeet heard what Loghain and Howe had to say."

"Is this about Ostagar, or…?"

Leiliana said, stepping around Alistair to stand at his side. Teagan turned his body to include the woman, but kept his eyes on Dain as he spoke.

"Bryce and his wife were true friends to the King; they fought as desperately as Maric to free Ferelden from Orlesian rule. Never will I believe that they were traitors. Just like I don't believe that Loghain saved his men by leaving Cailan to die, alongside your comrades."

"They have named my family traitors!"

Sudden fury enflamed Dain's voice, Teagan didn't step back but there was a new crease in his forehead.

"I am sorry Dain; I do not think that any of those at the Landsmeet believed Loghain or Howe's words. Your father, the Teryn, was one of the most honourable men I have ever met."

His anger deflated instantly at Teagan's words and he lost eye contact. His mother, father, Oriana, Oren and now Fergus. It took harsh will to take a deep breath and lift his head again.

"Tell us Teagan, what happened here?"

That exhausted look shone again in his eyes but he began to speak.

"I arrived back from Denerim; the town was already in chaos. Each night things would ride from the castle; those that died would rise again and attack even their kin. Each dawn they are gone, but each night they ride again. Despite what we do there seems to be no end. Each day I hail the castle, but there is no reply, faith is running low. Maker knows what evil stalks its walls."

"I offered aide, take it."

"This is not going to aide us in defeating the blight."

Sten's voice was a low rumble. Dain turned to look at the man, though he was tall and broad, the Qunari stood taller, barely deigning to drop his gaze to Dain.

"This is needful, therefore we help."

Nothing changed the Sten's mien.

"We need Eamon, so we help Teagan."

Alistair said, as if simplifying it further would help the Qunari understand. Dain narrowed his eyes, and strode past the giant,

"Sten."

He moved to a spot secluded from the others, they could be seen, but not heard, especially when Sten stood in front of the Warden. The eyes of Teagan and the others didn't move from the two, Alistair's eyes widening into circles, impressed by Dain. They could hear the sound of their low talking but not what was said. After a few minutes Sten turned, even offering a stiff bow to Teagan before striding off down the hall. Dain returned to the group, but when he spoke his voice was rigid with fury.

"What can we do to help Teagan?"

Teagan stuttered before managing to get his words out,

"Oh, thank you. I suggest that you speak with the town mayor, Murdoch, and Ser Perth. He is the leader of the knights that had returned."

Dain nodded and spun, stalking down the hall again with striking boots.

"Where did Sten go?"

"He goes to talk to someone about barricades. He can take out his dislike of this plan on the trees he can hew. Leiliana, you and Morrigan go to speak to Ser Perth find out if anything needs to be done before nightfall…and anything about his journey for the Ashes. Whether you believe or not Morrigan."

The mage narrowed her eyes at Dain who had turned to speak to Alistair and missed it. But her anger was in her walk as she sashayed away. Leiliana giggled and rolled her eyes but followed the mage up to the walkway.

"What did you say to him?"

Dain shrugged.

"Not much. I can see what he means, but this is imperative to sorting the blight."

"Thank you Dain, no matter what you said. That you would save…try to save him."

Dain started to walk towards the man who wore a painful tired expression that didn't change even when he focussed on the two large warriors walking towards him.

* * *

><p>Dain was focussed single-mindedly at that very moment on the foamy head of the ale on the tankard swaying towards him on the tray wielded by a smiling red headed woman. His focussed look was mirrored by Alistair, Leiliana and Morrigan already holding chalice's of a deep red wine. Sten seemed to be sulking closer to the fire, ignoring and being ignored by the others in the tavern. Murdoch had been right, the closer to twilight the fuller the tavern got. But before true nightfall the chantry would be full.<p>

"Here you go loves."

She laughed at Dain as he slowly tipped back his head and took a huge mouthful.

"I'll get you another then."

As she moved off Dain grinned at Alistair and as one they sculled back the large tankards Leiliana egging them on while still taking dainty sips of her own. Morrigan regarding them all dryly.

"Are you going to tell us what you spoke to Sten about?"

She said. Dain put the now empty tankard on the table, wiping foam with the back of his hand.

"No."

But he smiled at the bar maid and took that new tankard sipping quickly.

"Do you have some lyrium potions with you Morrigan?"

She nodded, seeming absentminded.

"Sure, I can heal more often, though I do not have an inexhaustible supply."

Dain nodded, pushing the tankard back and leaning forward a little.

"I know. That's why you will heal each of us once, then you will fall back to the chantry, they will not breach the church."

"Once!"

Leiliana said. Dain just nodded,

"Yes. The villagers will be useless; those who have fighting experience are running on empty. Those that don't, the women and children cannot die tonight. You heal us once, then you stop anything trying to go for the chantry."

Morrigan nodded, but moaned under her breath about children and useless women. Dain chose to ignore it and swallowed the last of the ale.

"Let's take positions."

The bar maid ran up, stopping and turning Dain with a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you fighting tonight?"

He nodded,

"Yes."

"Oh, I'm glad. Come back safe okay."

He just nodded before leading the way out the door.


	12. Things that go bump in the dark

**Things that go bump in the dark**

The night seemed frightening. Several bonfires home islands of light, flickering looming shadows. Dain stood with his arms crossed standing next to Perth. Both stood in silence, his men murmured amongst themselves nearby.

"I must thank you for deciding to stay and help. There has been talk of you persuading some to stay."

"All you need to know is that we are here. Sten has promised to lend his sword and strength to tonight. We will talk with the Bann in the morning about what we can do regarding the Arl and the castle."

"You say it so easily that we will survive the night."

As answer Dain drew the sword from his back and settled his sword, letting the huge shape of metal fall to his side.

"I do."

It wasn't like fighting other men; it was more like fighting the darkspawn. But where their black poisonous blood flew, instead it was the thick decomposing liquid that flew with each strike. Terrible unnatural claws raked across shields and armour, and terrible screams issued from skeletal jaws. They ran uncaring through the flames; it set them alight stopping a few, but the rest threw themselves upon swords, breaking themselves upon shields. A shimmer of lightning from Morrigan split and spidered through several of the zombies. The sudden pop and crack as pockets of rotten gas ignited. Perth slipped on a rotting corpse, falling beneath others, Alistair and Dain leapt as one, hacking limbs and heads. Trying to reach the knight beneath; he stood with a roar, a vicious gash across a cheek bone. It spat blood as Perth attacked again at every exhalation. Leiliana was still smooth in the draw and fire of her arrows, but unless she loosed a fire arrow they seemed to do nothing to stop the tide. She seemed to finally understand and slid the bow to her back and drew the slim short swords and spun them in a dangerous glittering arc. Above the grunts of pain and effort, the thud of bodies and weapons meeting, rose the sound of Morrigan's laughter as she rained fire and electricity upon the animated dead. The fighting was close in, the crush of bones and the melt of decomposing flesh, swords swiped leaving a slight breathless silence in their wake, in return the terrible claws swiped – the scree as they tore down shields flung up in desperate defence. The wheezing grunt as they literally threw themselves onto soldiers. Without a shield Leiliana seemed to be dancing, ducking to use that terrible space behind a long sword swipe to launch her own attacks before fleeing back, using Dain's shield as her own to take a breath. As he stepped forward to take the terrible attack she spun to take the zombie who had dragged its ruined body back into the fight. Dain in less than a blink he took in the zombie leaping to attack Alistair's open side. He dragged his sword back to slam into and through the rotten spine but locking into the rigid rib cage. Dain let go of his weapon and took a knee using Alistair's armoured leg to help block another attack. Something moved into his line of sight, he quickly drew the dagger and stuck it in the chest of the monster clamouring for his blood. It's broken unhinged jaw hissing madly as it strove to maul his face, slimy spittle in his eyes. More and more seemed to arrive, terrible breath from putrid mouths heated his face; fighting grew more desperate. Then, in an instant they were standing alone in a battlefield littered with bodies and flesh. Their harsh breath steamed in the night, steam rising from their bodies after such a strenuous battle. But those who were left standing were not unscathed, congealed blood stained armour, weapons and faces, red blood flowed from scratches and wounds. Two of Perth's knights lay on the ground, one unmoving the other sitting up and gripping the hand of his comrade in arms. With a bark, all Dain could summon, Morrigan moved over, hands alight as she healed the man. Dain slid his dagger home and grabbed the hilt of his long sword, shaking it finally kicking at the body splintering it to draw his weapon free, all the while trying to swallow the massive reflex to vomit. He looked down and saw the head of one of Leiliana's arrows still buried deep in the eye socket of a half skeleton zombie. Closing his eyes he sighed, trying to release the tension in his jaw from tight clenching. He looked over to Perth, remembering the knight being buried under such a terrible foe, he was talking to his knights, but he could see the wound on his face went through to the inside of his mouth the faint glimmer of teeth through the gap.

"Morrigan."

She appeared close by, she was wiping her mouth too; the same reflex he had no doubt.

"Could you see to Perth."

She nodded, but he could see she was drained. Should he leave it?

"Don't worry about us. You need to save something, but I need Perth able to keep fighting. He is a leader as well as an awesome fighter."

"Are you really sure? He is just a man."

"As am I. And I can see that you are tired, and like you said you only have a limited supply of lyrium potions."

There was the familiar frown on her face, narrowly close to that glass shattering scowl. Dain took a careful breath through his mouth but gagged. He didn't swallow, instead he spat it to the bloody ground.

"Do they come in waves Ser Perth?"

Alistair called, the man covered in gore. Perth wasn't much better, his previously red hair now blackened by decaying fluid.

"Sometimes. Aagghh, they seem to have no tactics, but in hindsight and Blessed daylight we can see patterns."

Free flowing sweat cooled faces, but stung eyes. Dain put his shield on the ground, wiping and digging his gloved fingers into his eyes. Trying to ignore the grime and blood caked on the leather as he did. In the corners of his eyes he wiped soot and slimy ooze. Though it felt like they had been fighting for years in this one night, the constellations seemed to barely have moved, and Perth's men seemed still ready for further attacks. Leiliana moved to his side, even her face was pale, dark circles rimming purple lidded eyes. She staggered, he caught her but didn't let her go. Instead he gripped her arm, pulling her into the circle of his grip. She lifted her arms to grip his arm, sitting easier against his shoulder. Leiliana closed her eyes and turned her head away, not wanting any to see the sudden exhaustion and terror, the need to hold something real and strong. He felt solid too, his armour and gauntlets felt slimy and wet, but she could feel the exhalation of each breath on her hair, each resolutely drawn through his nose.

"Are you hurt?"

He felt her shake her head, her reply was a whisper.

"Just…those things are terrifying."

"And now you have to get close …Unless…do you know if the archers down by the chantry have more fire arrows? If they do take up position with them, you have a good eye. I would prefer you as an archer."

He set his long sword to the ground, using it as a crutch for both their weight.

"You are bleeding."

He said, finally looking to Alistair. There was the welling and slow drop of blood from under a plate on his arm. The blonde dropped his gaze as if only just registering the wound. Morrigan's ears had pricked up at the words and moved over, sliding her fingers under the plate and mail. Alistair made to yank his hand free, but it was Perth who caught it. Morrigan sneered and pushed a poultice awkwardly under the armour and padding.

"Morrigan, you and Leiliana head down the chantry. Gain your breath and do what I asked this afternoon."

Leiliana lifted her head and nodded, but wasn't quick to step back from his embrace. And then a half strangled scream came from the direction of the windmill. As one, all of them spun their weapons ready, Dain didn't kick up his shield, instead he turned his body away and raised his sword, protecting Leiliana who had only lifted her head at the tingling sound. But it was only a man who came up the path, wet with sweat, voice coming out half strangled from fear and strain under his helmet.

"They are coming from the lake! Masses of them!"

Dain made instant decisions, he spun Leiliana from his arm and took up his sword.

"Dwyn, you and your men stay here with Perth, everyone else, on me!"

The messenger had been right; as they ran down the hill path they could see the few defenders and the tide of angular zombie's intent on doom. Darting a look to Leiliana and Morrigan, they split from he and Alistair, Leiliana moving to the side of a few other archers on a higher angle over the battle field, Morrigan already firing a few zombie's clambering up the Chantry's steps. With a loud battle cry both Dain and Alistair thundered into the battle, their rushed charge knocking a few enemies off their feet. Their new come presence giving the fighters more energy and a surge forward meant the monsters were pushed behind the barricades Sten had helped erect. It was as heavy and hard as it had been further towards the castle. But now there more inexperienced fighters, but they more than made up for it. Dain pulled back his sword, chopping hard onto the head of a grasping zombie, the head exploding under the hit. He kept half an eye on the trail up towards Perth, saying prayers under his breath that the path would remain clear.

* * *

><p>Dain hammered a blow through the clavicle of another monster, finding Tomas next to him. The full helmet long gone, the man's eyes were wide with fear but he still lay around him with sword. But when Dain caught his eyes, there was a grin on his face,<p>

"The dawn is breaking!"

He was right, the night looked clearer, the stars fading. Dain laughed, Maker it felt good to laugh. Until he saw, during a backswing, the bony arms reach around from behind Tomas. Foot long claws crossed Tomas' face, the spew of blood following each massive furrow. Terror blazed in those eyes, Dain couldn't look away. And then that razor claw raked across Tomas' sight. Dain screamed, destroying the monster letting loose its own hiss, with his shield before shattering the moulding skull. As the echoes of his cry rang out he realised that everyone else was still. Lifting his gaze he met that of Murdoch. On the older man's face was relief and despair as he looked at the body still bleeding at Dain's feet.

"I couldn't save him."

Murdoch shook his head, crouching next to the body. Fear still shone on the destroyed face, blood leaking still from the terrible wounds.

"That is unfortunately the story for all of them."

He stood and started talking to the villagers who looked so haggard, weapons fallen to the ground. One started laughing maniacally at the break of tension, but it turned to pathetic muffled weeping as he was pulled into the relieved embrace of a friend. The smoke hung low over the survivors, but already they were moving. The chantry doors had been opened, crying women ran out, running to their husbands and sons. Teagan moved out at the side of Mother Hannah. He looked like he had aged eons over the night, relief shone on his face as he saw Alistair though. Dain released his grip on the shield, dropping it to the ground next to the steps, his sword stabbed into the ground next to it. Sten moved to his side, the giant was covered in gore, but didn't seem injured.

"How do you fare Sten?"

"I am disturbed by the monsters. But I am uninjured."

Dain nodded, rubbing his chin and jaw hard.

"Thank you."

The Qunari didn't nod his head, but spoke when Dain looked away at the carnage under the lightening sky.

"I do not understand why you needed to help here. But in seeing the women and children I see their weakness."

Dain didn't answer, he wasn't really sure it had been a compliment. Teagan moved to Dain, Sten moving off respectfully.

"You and your group may grab a few hours sleep in the chantry, there are some pallets made up. I believe Mother Hannah is readying some break fast."

Dain turned to look at the man,

"Alistair and I will help the others with the clean up. Leiliana and Morrigan would benefit from some rest."

With a smooth nod and half bow he stepped back, calling to Alistair. The man rushed up grinning with relief,

"Glad to see you're okay. I got stuck back away from the chantry, found myself next to Leiliana and the archers. Dain, I don't think I really like the idea of another night of zombies."

Dain didn't quite manage a smile.

"After we help Murdoch and the others we have to bend thought to getting into the castle and Eamon."

Alistair frowned; the worry about Eamon hadn't left him even while they fought.

"So no chance for food then?"

"How about break fast later."

Alistair managed a grin,

"Sounds good."

* * *

><p>Oddly enough the gathering of bodies, both the zombies and that of slain villagers went smoothly and relatively fast. Dain tried to push everything to the back of his mind as his hands got blacker and smellier. He found himself avoiding the bloody red bodies of the freshly dead and instead added severed limbs and crushed skeletons to the growing pile. Teagan came by, as if by some invisible signal Mother Hannah appeared, others stopped in their duties and came close and stood quietly. He didn't know who it was, but some one placed a lit torch on the pile. Greasy dark smoke smouldered and rose, heading out towards the lake. Dain didn't stay long; instead he left during Hannah's sermon.<p>

Leiliana found him leaning against one of the wooden columns outside the chantry, he chewed on the torn off loaf, but his mouth was dry.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. I need to talk to Teagan."

He tossed her the bread and made to walk off, but those who had watched the zombie's burn were now moving towards the chantry. Dain stood rigidly as Teagan spoke, hiding the surprise as the man turned to him to thank him for his efforts.

"It was not only I, some still died."

"Nonetheless, it would have been worse had you not offered your help."

Dain could only bow his head in thanks. But when Mother Hannah called on the Maker for thanks and prayers his wish to speak the refrain was gone and he was as silent as Sten and Morrigan. As Hannah finished Teagan turned to him,

"Meet me up by the windmill shortly."

Dain watched the man walk off, Perth talking to him as they walked together. He narrowed his eyes but didn't speak.

"Do you have any idea what he wishes to speak of?"

Leiliana asked, offering one of the steaming mugs in her hand, the other she gave to Alistair. He took a sip, revelling in the temperature as much as the taste.

"I think he wants to find his family. And he needs our help."

Leiliana looked at both Alistair and Dain, they had managed to find food and now drink, but their armour was still covered in gore and blood, their faces only rudely wiped with wet rags. Dain sculled back the liquid, ignoring the burn it leant his throat; he relished it, taking the taste of fire and the ash of flesh from his tongue.

"I'll be back then we see if Teagan has a plan."

Alistair walked beside him, ignoring or not thinking if Dain wanted to be alone. When Dain stood before the cold looking lake and pulled the armour and then clothing from his body, he did the same. Dain waded into the water wearing just his loin cloth, goose pimples rising up instantly. But the temperature didn't stop him dunking his head. Dain found himself clenching his eyes tight. The thought made him grin; the tales Fergus had told of the Lake, of the beasties there, and what the mages did to the water. When he broached the surface, still rubbing hard at the bare spikes of hair on his head, Alistair was grinning at him, he was wiping the blood from the wound on his arm.

"I heard that the mages empty out old potions into the lake, that's why the sign tells everyone not to swim. Hope it isn't true. I could turn into a frog."

Dain grinned, it was odd. Now that he was cleaner he felt better, the night seemed a dream. Until he thought again of young Tomas. Young! He was probably the same age as him. And now he was dead, killed in such a terrible way.

"After you."


	13. Chapter 13 The Broken Tower

_To be honest I wasnt really looking forward to writing too much about the tower and its problems, but this set up has made my fingers itch so there will be more. As always I hope you likee, and please review. Its always exciting when I have a review email in my inbox!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Broken Tower<strong>

Though his face and hands were clean, his armour was not. Neither was his shield. But it was the same for all of them. Only Morrigan seemed fresh and clean, but she wore barely there clothing and none of the men there could take their eyes from her. Even seeing what she had done with her apostate magic in the night previous. She knew it and had worn a smirk and sauntered swinging her hips since she had realised it. There was only one boat, the others burnt the other morning holding the bodies of Redcliffe's dead. Dain shivered, though it had nothing to do with the cold expanse of water between him and the tower across Lake Calenhad which was his destination. Instead he saw the powerful Revenant and the demon in the eyes of the young Connor, sending his own Uncle into the fray to cover his escape. He shook his head and pulled in a lungful of cool air. Teagan looked at him managing a smile,

"Thank you Dain, and the Maker speed you and your friends back quickly."

Dain nodded, Alistair moving to his side and climbing into the boats. Sten folded his arms, content to stay on the shore and at Redcliffe. He was the only one who could do the necessary deed if Connor would not stay quiet while the rest were away. Dain darted a look to the castle, knowing that the next time he returned it maybe too late for the only son of the still ill Arl. Leiliana leapt and settled easily into the bow of the boat, grinning sweetly at the others. The small sail unfurled, forcing Dain to sit quickly, his shield and sword tossed into the bottom of the vessel.

"We'll be fine."

Alistair protested at the question in Dain's face, the shore receding behind them. Teagan lifted his hand, the only movement. Isolde didn't move, her arms still wrapped around her body, shock and terror still etched onto her face.

"You know, if we disregard the whole purpose for this trip, this could almost be fun."

Leiliana leant over the side, trailing fingers along the surface of the water. Alistair gave a strangled laugh.

"Give us a few more hours in this armour in the state it's in, your mind will change."

Dain said. Her reply was to fling a handful of water at him.

* * *

><p>"Uh, we have a small problem."<p>

"Something to do with the rising tide of water in the bottom of this cursed boat?"

"Maybe."

Dain looked at the shoreline. Earlier Alistair had adjusted the trajectory of the boat, as if foreseeing this potential disaster. But at the conversation they were heading directly for it. Though the Tower had loomed into sight, they were still some distance away. If they made it to the shore it would take some time to get there on foot, but sinking in any depth of water wanting to keep their armour and weaponry was a death sentence. Leiliana's light words had faded and now she too looked worryingly at the shore.

"You know, it would be nice to catch a break."

Dain answered with a snort. But he agreed.

* * *

><p>Dain set the pace. It was swift, and difficult with cramped muscles. But after a few hours their pace was solid.<p>

"Have a feeling we should have brought Sten."

"You were there when he spoke of the mages in Par Vollen Alistair. Can you imagine him and the Tower? We need their aide, not their animosity. And if we'd brought Morrigan…chaos would rain down from the sky!"

They moved out of sight of the Lake, heading for higher ground, finding and then following the road, always heading for the top of the stone tower, all they could see of the building. Slowing to a walk they strode abreast through the crumbling arch. It was magnificent, for being a prison. Dain's sword rang as he swept it from his scabbard, holding it to the neck of the ragged man who had a small nicked blade in his hand,

"It's mine!"

He protested weakly. The scattered bones of a dead enemy lay flung around his feet, the poor picking ground already well cleaned of any treasures.

"I paid for it fair and square."

"Too much from the look of it."

Dain said, the sword seeming reticent to drop. He forced his hand and sheathed it, dropping his gaze from the quaking man to the bones at his feet.

"If you want to trade, found a bit of leather. Wolves got to it but it's a glove. I think it's a glove, kinda looks like one."

Dain ignored the man; he turned to Leiliana offering her the scrap of leather. He crouched, touching the bone; it was thicker than normal bone longer as well, especially for one from an arm. He picked it up, turning it over.

"Who did you buy it off?"

The man spun at Dain's quiet words,

"A squirrelly man said it was still plenty good. Giants you see, what was here. A couple of them."

He frowned. Sten had said he and his men were attacked by spawn near Calenhad. Giants, could it be had stumbled upon the final resting place of these unfortunate Qunari? He stood, reaching his arm around the man, turning him away from the others,

"We need to speak."

The man turned back to Leiliana and Alistair, but was turned back by the end of the gnawed bone upon his cheek.

He burst from the trees and was a smear in the twilight before Dain stood before his fellows again.

"Something we missed?"

"Here is where Sten was ambushed."

"His sword?"

"We need to speak to a man called Faryn; our departed friend suggested he was heading to the Frostbacks."

"He seemed eager to leave. Did you give him a more harsh incentive?"

Dain headed down the hill, frowning harder at Leiliana's words.

"Not so much that he didn't take the silvers I offered for the information."

She shredded a deathroot plant as they went past, stowing the leaves in a pouch at her waist. Instead of heading for the short jetty, they turned towards the man shaking his head next to a holed boat. He turned and managed a grin for them.

"Evening. Bit late for guests, even here."

"Is that the only transport to the tower?"

Dain said with no preamble, the man lifted his eyebrows, darting his eyes to Leiliana, seeming the most approachable of the three.

"No it isn't. Carroll there has her, my Nessie. But I don't think he'll offer you a ride. Came up to me a few days ago Gregoir did, saying Kester, you won't be needed any longer. Carroll's been there since, no one from or to the Tower. If you ask me, something fishy up there with all those mages."

"We have business there; he'll be taking us across."

Kester shrugged,

"Good luck."

Dain made to turn away but looked at the ex ferryman.

"Why did you say there was trouble at the Tower?"

"Gregoir is the Knight Commander; never see him unless something big has happened. And with no traffic to or from the Tower, something doesn't feel right."

"Thank you anyway then."

It brightened Kester's face and he nodded goodbye. The three moved into a huddle, eyeing the templar pacing the length of the wooden jetty.

"Trouble at the Tower reeks to me of something really bad. Mages and demons go hand and hand."

"Not totally, but I don't like the possibilities."

Sighing Dain spoke,

"Regardless of the reception waiting, we need the mages, not just for Connor. We must get these treaties recognised."

"If we get across."

Alistair said glumly.

"If Leiliana's red hair and blue eyes won't work, maybe hostility will."

Those blue eyes narrowed.

* * *

><p>The doors were massive, obviously designed to keep something in rather than out. Dain strode down the hall, heading for the grey haired man down the end, his style of armour marking him as the Knight Commander.<p>

"Newcomers! I specifically ordered Carroll no one!"

His words were hard and loud. The few templars around him all looked at their leader. Dain didn't quail but offered a slight head bow in nonchalant deferment.

"Knight Commander Gregoir, I am a Grey Warden."

"I have no time for your idiotic requests Warden, I have far bigger problems right now then you're recruiting for a blight."

"Whether they are bigger is debatable, in any case I have not the time. Why is the tower on lock down, I need to see the First Enchanter immediately."

Gregoir turned and focussed on the Warden. This was not the Warden Commander Duncan that he had known; some news had reached them of the carnage at Ostagar. Perhaps not all Wardens died there.

"Believe me, so would I. But it isn't likely to happen, for the tower is overrun by demons and abominations. It was all I could do for the few men I had to close the doors, despite the mages and templars pleading for aide."

Alistair's face paled at Gregoir's slow words, darting looks to the guarded door, as if any minute it would explode under an attack by a possessed mage.

"And now?"

"By now everyone in the tower is dead, I have sent for the Rite of Annulment. When I have it I will destroy anything left in the tower."

Dain turned to Alistair,

"How much time do we have?"

"He would have to wait for an answer from Denerim, but with the civil war it could take weeks, if not months."

Dain turned back to the knight commander,

"Then the course is clear, we will enter the tower to search for survivors."

"There are none!"

"No one is completely helpless, I refuse to believe that every mage has died or fallen under the influence of malevolence, surely some of your trained templars have survived."

The man didn't seem moved.

"The Circle is needed now more than ever, please let me and my men to try."

"I will only be able to accept safety when Irving stands before me, then and only then can I believe it is safe."

But Dain was not finished.

"Then if I do this, can I count on the templars for aide during the blight?"

"Do not get too ahead of yourself young Warden."

"Are you sure Dain?"

Leiliana said. She was gripping her bow tightly.

"If we do not have the support of the Circle and their magic, then we are doomed. We must save whatever is left of the tower."

He offered a small smile, but it was gone when he looked to Gregoir again.

"Strike the doors Knight Commander; I will try to save this tower before you rely upon the destruction of your rite."

Templars opened the doors, though their movements were obviously reticent. Alistair strode behind Dain, Leiliana close by, all three drawing their weapons, Leiliana placing an arrow to string before the doors thudded closed behind them.


	14. Chapter 14 Inside red painted walls

_It's taken me a while to put this up, it is also quite short and I apologise. I'm going to make a concerted effort and thrash through the next few. Please review as well! Thanks to all of those following the story._

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><p><strong>Inside red painted walls<strong>

It was quiet and still. The only sound was the low thudding tone in their ears of their own rushing blood.

"Apprentice quarters."

Alistair said in hushed voice. Dain supposed that young and relatively unskilled mage apprentices would have had no chance against the abominations and chaos that had taken place. He entered the first dormitory halls. There were many shattered bodies, not just those garbed in blue robes, but those clad in blood dulled templar armour. The men and women had not simply been killed, some had been ripped apart, blood fancifully daubed on walls, terror stricken faces frozen in the midst of such terrible horror.

"I'm starting to feel unsure whether anything could have withstood that which did this."

There was tenderness as Leiliana knelt, reaching out a hand to close the staring eyes of a young mage, ripped in two the lower torso and legs no where to be seen.

"There is no option here Leiliana, we have to."

Dain said, flicking a sheet from one of the dormitory beds over the body of a templar.

"But right now, I want to do it for those that have fallen."

The dormitories were all still, no one living hidden anywhere; behind them the three left the ruined bodies of the dead. But as Dain pushed on the doors, a bolt of magic ricocheted off the frame. Dain bent his knees and drew his sword. Alistair took a deep breath, about to use his own templar attack when Dain shouted,

"Hold!"

He sheathed his own sword quickly, his motions causing the group of mages who had attacked to move back but also to hold off their own attacks. Alistair wasn't so willing to trust and kept this hand near his own weapon. Dain knew he had seen this woman before, an older woman, white hair but there was no trace of senility or vacancy about her.

"Wynne?"

The staff wasn't lifted from its levelled position, but there was recognition in her eyes.

"I do know you, but do not think that I will allow you to kill all of us so easily."

"I am not here to kill Wynne; don't worry the annulment rite has not arrived yet. I convinced Gregoir to allow me and my mine to enter and find survivors."

The staff was lifted; the two other mages behind her did the same. A few children appeared from their hiding places, earning a gasp from Leiliana.

"I'm surprised you could convince Gregoir of such a thing."

"The door barricading the tower remains closed; he will only believe the tower restored once Irving stands before him."

Wynne sighed,

"Then the path ahead is clear. I will come with you and find Irving. And I suppose tell you about what has afflicted the tower."

One of the younger mages, a slim red haired female rushed to Wynne's side, whispering quickly. Wynne's mannerisms showed that she was calming the girl. Dain looked to Alistair and Leiliana,

"Leiliana, I can see you worry for the children. Stay here with the other mages. I think someone with a calmer level head will help here. Alistair and I will continue with Wynne."

"I can help you."

Dain smiled,

"I know you can, but I think right now it isn't just the children here that would benefit from your presence, but the other mages. A bit of guidance would do them good."

She nodded, looking carefully into Dain's eyes before doing the same to Alistair. Wynne turned to the two Wardens,

"Are you ready?"

"Leiliana will stay here with the others."

There was relief on Wynne's face and thanks in her gaze.

"Once this barrier is down there will be things that you have only seen in your dreams. Are you truly ready?"

Dain nodded,

"Believe me Wynne, after Ostagar and what we have seen so far, I think Alistair and I would be hard pressed to be surprised."

Wynne studied the two quickly. Dain looked more rigid than he had those weeks ago, she had only a faint idea what had happened to the two during the battle. But whatever they had been through had forced them to face it head on and survive. Hope kindled in her heart and with a bemused grin she banished the spell covering the door. Immediately a howl from something not quite human shimmered down the stone halls. The emotion on her face turned to frightened determination.

"We will be back soon."

Alistair said, casting a carefully easy grin at Leiliana, flexing his arms as he pulled his sword free and settled his shield; the children laughing admiringly. Dain thought didn't, he looked at Leiliana and nodded before taking point, holding his shield before him, the sword still at his side ready for any attack.


	15. Chapter 15 Real life

**Real life**

"Uncle catch me!"

It was pure reflex; Oren had shouted the words while he had been in the air. Dain hefted him against his shoulder laughing, finally letting the boy slide to the ground.

"I always knew Oren would find you first Dain. I'm glad you came back to us after ending the blight."

_He called me by my name._

Dain reached for his father, taking the offered hug.

"Of course father, I could never forget you."

_Will never forget you._

His mother pried the father and son gently apart, reaching her hands up to Dain's face, resting them lightly on his cheeks.

"Hello darling."

He kissed her cheek, bending low to do so.

"Where is Fergus?"

Bryce laughed heartedly,

"With his wife I expect, he has been parted from her for too long. But you my son, now a Grey Warden, the hero that ended the blight."

Dain swept a hand over his head, fingers gliding over the short bristles.

"What about Duncan? What about Alistair, shouldn't they be here?"

"Don't worry about them, I'll send word to Ser Gilmore, he'll find them."

A glancing pain made him wince; Dain lifted his hand, fingers trailing along his brow bone. The pain didn't lessen and when he brought his fingers down there was blood on his fingertips. His shoulders slumped and he looked at his mother; she didn't seem to even see the blood, an expression of joy on her face. _Oh Maker please. I beg you, not again._ Anger swelled to rival the sadness that filled his bones. While he seemed clad in hose and a tunic, there was still his dagger at his hip. He drew his mother close again, her arms around his neck,

"I will always love you mother."

The dagger entered her chest, glancing two ribs. She windmilled back, her eyes no longer the same as Dain's. Instead they were red. Even Oren's, sitting in the arms of the Teryn were the same blood red colour.

"You could have been happy here Dain. Now you have spoiled it all."

Her voice was gone now just a growl of the supernatural and though blood blossomed on her gown she did not seem troubled by it.

"I could have been happy, but my father told me that Couslands do their duty first. I am no where near completing it. Be gone demon, or you will taste my blade."

Their mouths opened wide, bone cracking skin splitting, sounding loud ear piercing shrieks. Lifting a now armour clad arm; it descending holding his sword. Dain could feel the track of tears down his cheeks as he killed these demons wearing his dead family's faces. The one who was Oren just stood there, looking up at the man before him. Even his eyes had returned to the dusky brown of his mothers.

"Uncle, did you bring me a sward?"

It was said with a grin, his teeth shining white.

"Yes. Here."

It entered the slim chest easily. Oren looked down at it before up again, blood dripping from his mouth. Dain drew in a ragged breath; it seemed he could not halt the tears. His vision blurred, further than the tears rolling from them could account for.

* * *

><p>"See Dain, this is my sister. Goldanna."<p>

There was more animation in Alistair here than he had seen in the time he had known him. Pointlessly wiping his eyes with a gloved hand he studied the woman. She was grinning at him, and at her 'brother' who had flung an arm around her.

"I need him more than you do."

Her voice hinted at serrated teeth,

"You cannot have him."

"He is already mine."

Dain stepped up, Alistair dropping his arm with a confused look. Dain smiled nastily at the demon/Goldanna and head butted her. She stumbled backwards,

"Dain what are you doing?"

"This is not your sister Alistair. Think back to how we got here? Can you?"

Wrinkles formed on Alistair's forehead as he thought, one of Goldanna's 'children' moved up, trying to clasp his hand; he moved away dodging the small hand easily.

"See he is mine."

"No!"

Like the others her shout rose to a scream. Hers abruptly ended as Dain beheaded her. His tears stained the air as he spun, but Alistair had realised his folly and the children around him lay on the ground.

"I can't believe they fooled me. Don't go…hey where are you going? Hey?"

* * *

><p>"Leave me here to mourn."<p>

Her words sounded broken and resigned. Dain shook his head.

"Is this real Wynne? Does this feel like real life?"

Her brow furrowed, but she looked at him with anger. Her words were filled with it.

"What would you know? You said you were going to help. But all that is here now is death and such pain. Leave me with them."

She slapped him, her hand coming away wet with his tears. But Dain was relentless.

"This does not seem like you. To give up so readily. Please Wynne, think. I would no sooner leave the circle to this kind of terror than turn my back on the blight."

Weariness coated her movements, a slightly shaking hand rose to cup her forehead.

"It is difficult to concentrate. Perhaps some time away would allow me to gather my thoughts; perhaps there is some truth in your words."

"No Wynne, don't leave us. Rest here alongside us."

There was true shock on her face as she whirled to see one of the dead magelings around her rise, beseeching her with outstretched hands.

"What sort of devilry is this?"

But the staff was in her hands and Wynne fought alongside Dane. These pale imitations had no magic in themselves and seemed to just wait for the swipe of the blade or bolt from her staff. Finally Wynne looked at Dain, seeing the pink she had called from his cheek at her strike.

"I thought I had some affinity for the Fade. It seems…where do you think you are going young man?"

* * *

><p>"And look at the little boy; he still weeps for what he has lost."<p>

Hate for this thing before him swelled inside Dain, fingers clenching tighter at the sword hilt. Alistair looked at the man, for all the demon had done to all of them; Dain still seemed to cry for whatever it had shown him. Had taken from him.

"Your power is broken; we found each other even here. We stand against you united and you will fall."

Wynne said, the staff in her hand glowing. But all the reaction she got was ancient laughter.

"Enough talk. Taste my sword."

Dain leapt, his sword now engulfed in flames. While he got in a strike he was flung back time and time again. Alistair fighting alongside him, wondering the whole time how he could have forgotten what Dain seemed to have remembered even in his own private heaven. It was long and hard, both warriors were bleeding, sweat stinging their eyes even here. But the sloth demon was weakening, using up his shape changes until he stood before them in his original form, bent and buckled. It only remained for someone to end it.

"This is for those you have chained to your will, for stealing Niall. And for the heartbreak."

Dain thrust power into his legs, rising from his kneel, battering aside the weak swipe from the clawed hand; even that which powered this demon's spells was tapped. His sword bit into and through the being's neck. The fade's edges blurred further, wavering as Dain placed his foot on the thing's chest and yanking his sword free. Tears dripped from his chin, a few landing on the demon's clawed hands. He said nothing, but focussed with clarity as he brought the sword around and then down onto the head. Carving through the skull and bisecting the terrible grinning skull face.

Dain opened his eyes, automatically dragging his hand up to his face, drying tears that had only existed in the fade. Muscles screamed at the movement, and for the next few breaths at least Dain was happy to feel the stones beneath his head, and hear the groans and smothered oaths from those two awakening at his side.


	16. Chapter 16 Evolution or perversion?

_Wow this is superhumanly long! And it does write differently from the previous chapters. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review! Thanks._

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><p><strong>Evolution or perversion?<strong>

They hadn't really spoken much since returning from the Fade. Instead they moved mechanically, destroying those that still stood between them and the levels further up the tower. Dain hadn't met any eyes since rousing, instead purposefully keeping his face averted. Alistair and Wynne had swapped concerned looks, but none felt brave enough to broach the topic; there were no tears on his face, but there was the haunting look of destruction in his eyes. It came to a head after they were surprised by what had seemed an empty room. Dain had moved forward, looking at the chest that lay perhaps too obviously in the centre of the room. Several demons appeared; at first the stones appearing red hot before rage demons drew themselves up and free. Wynne reacted the fastest, cold snow bearing wind lashed the room, and while the demons turned away from the winter blast Alistair and Dain set to them, sword going from frost covered to glowing hot at each attack. One managed to dodge a nearly wide swing, appearing inside his guard. The heat was instant, drying the sweat on his face, eyes dehydrating. It started to laugh, clawed metal melting hands settling almost daintily on his shoulders. Dain looked into the orbs that were its eyes, heat wavering from it turning his vision to blurs.

"You forgot her."

It cocked its head as if in question, but all Dain did was smile. The thud of cold was like a punch to the heart as the demon screamed and scrabbled at the freezing stones to somehow find shelter from the attack. Dain fell to his knees, trying to force air into his lungs; though it felt hot there were sparks in it as small ice particles touched his tongue and throat. With an anguished scream that dwindled to nothing there was just the reminder of black scorch marks on the stones and a decided chill in the air of the ambush. Dain rubbed his face, flakes of salt from his sweat, dried blood and ice peppered his gloves.

"Are you quite done with the cold shoulder? No pun intended."

He looked up at Wynne, her hands were set on her hips, but there was no denying the look in her eyes. Alistair loomed behind her but said nothing. Dain reached for his sword bit did not sheath it, he didn't care that Wynne's eyes widened; it was merely for the fact that the blade was still covered in light frost and it would stick if he tried. Instead he hilted the chest, it burst open. He took what he wanted without speaking before moving to the door. But instead of the demons or abominations that he had been expecting, there was an orb of magic, inside it a kneeling man – a templar. As Dain approached it, now able to sheath his weapon, the man looked up.

"More to rail and rant, what more can you do? What more can I do? I can no more stop these images than stop my own breath."

Dain pressed a hand against the 'skin' of the prison but there was no give.

"Wynne."

It brought Wynne to his side with a softly whispered curse. At the name the man inside seemed to perk up, struggling to find his feet.

"I know that name."

"Oh Cullen, what has happened to you?"

The man winced back at the utterance of his name,

"No, get out of my head; I will not fail like my brothers."

"Be still templar. I am a Grey Warden, come to find those who have survived here. I assure you that those who stand with me are also not illusions."

Cullen seemed to unfold and approached them,

"Oh thank the Maker. I do not think that I could have taken much more before I was as broken as the others. My time here has been a torment I would never have imagined. Uldred is in the Harrowing chamber, turning more and more of those still living…into I do not know what. Abominations, demons, take your pick."

"Is Irving there? With him there is hope of stopping the Rite of Annulment."

Wynne said softly. The reaction it tore from the tormented templar couldn't have been more violent if she had said she would kill him.

"No! There is no way to save the tower. Nothing can be allowed to step from that chamber alive. Everything must be killed, it is the only way!"

He assaulted the prison that kept him, thundering punches and kicks. But after being trapped and used for so long, the attack withered away quickly and he slid to the ground. Finally he turned his gaze to Dain,

"Please, nothing can be allowed to live."

"You cannot think to side with him, he is misguided. I cannot imagine that Irving would allow himself to fall to such taint."

Dain looked at Cullen carefully before looking to Wynne. But instead of thinking on this decision right before him, his mind slid back to the Wilds and those soldiers hanging from the tree; the darkspawn attacking with serrated swords terrifying screams from their fanged mouths.

"I don't like to think it, but perhaps there is some truth in Cullen's words."

It was Alistair's turn to face Wynne's wrath,

"If you even dare to ascend these steps with slaughter on your mind, you will have to kill me first."

There was no doubt that Wynne meant every word.

"Maker's breath Wynne, I said there was some truth. I don't want to kill anyone either, but what if there is…"

"I will make no decision until I have witnessed for myself what dwells in the chamber above."

"You damn us all Warden!"

"I damn no one. You stay here and out of the way until your tower is saved."

With that bitter sentence Dain turned leaving the templar staring after him.

"Thank you Dain."

Don't thank me yet. He seemed to ignore her words, but there was a flinch in his movements as a scream of terror and pain came through the thick doors before him.

* * *

><p>It was like a battlefield, more than a few parallels to that which had awaited them in the tower of Ishal. Bodies lay in broken heaps on the stone floor, Dain stepped over the remains of a young woman, her mouth still open in a scream of agony. Their presence seemed to either have been over looked or purely ignored. Two tall abominations stood with the bald headed Uldred, a mage was tied with invisible bounds and writhed before them. There was reflected terror Wynne's face as she watched the turning. Alistair moved to her side, offering his presence. Dain moved forward, an obstacle for eyes and attacks to both of those he had led here. With a thudding of sound and energy that burst like a ring around the three, now where the mage had beena tall perversion of human and demon stood. Uldred threw back his head and laughed. Now he seemed to notice Dain and the others, turning to look at him. When Dain met his eyes, the hair on the back of his neck rose; this was not the same man he had seen at the meeting with the King and Loghain. This was something different.<p>

"I thought there was an annoying mage that had escaped my clutches. And now here she stands with some poor templar stand-ins… No. I do know you. The youngest Grey Warden - you have changed much."

"The same could be said for you Uldred, though I think that you aren't Uldred any longer."

That maniacal laughter sounded again, Uldred even tilting his head back to laugh. Irving sat in the corner some sort of magical paralysis lay on him.

"You are an observant one."

"Perhaps. But the being I see before me has more backbone than the worm back at Ostagar ever had."

Lightening danced from Uldred's hands.

"I will show them all, I will command this Circle like my own army."

"Do you think that Mac Tir will allow you any more power?"

"It was the fool Loghain who gave me opportunity for this!"

Dain surreptitiously gripped the bound litany in his shield hand, hidden from view by the shape of metal.

"Then there is another reason for me to kill you."

"Watch for the other abominations Dain, and do not forget about the power of the litany."

Dain managed a look to Alistair.

"Protect Irving and try to keep the abominations off me."

With the last vehement whisper Dain leapt forward with a yell.

The fighting was bloody, the air already filled with the metallic tang and taint of terrified death. It grew denser and crackled with the energy used by Uldred and his turned abominations. Dain's first strike would have landed true if the Pride demon within Uldred had kept its true form dormant. Instead he fell back as it grew, a twisted mutation of Uldred's form, his eyes turning the blood red he remembered too well, twisted horns grew from a broad forehead.

"Dain, the litany!"

He'd barely heard the hoarse shout given by Wynne as he landed hard. But he lifted his arm; he shouted those few words Wynne had taught him when he had found it on Niall's body, and the corrupting magic Uldred had summoned around a bound mage dissipated. While it had the desired result, it turned the demon's attention on him. At first it was a terrifying cat and mouse game while Dain tried to figure out his huge opponent's weaknesses. There weren't many, while Dain's body became a training dummy. His vision was blurry from repeated knocks and thuds on the floor. His chest ached from being kicked hard. But after a few swift movements he managed to slice through an important muscle in Uldred's leg. As the demon fell he tried again to corrupt another mage. Dain had to swallow the blood from a split lip to wet his throat enough so he could speak those words once more. It was now or never. Dain released the death grip on the litany, tossing his shield from his arm and instead using it to grab a sharp spiralling horn. Uldred whipped back his head, but Dain managed to keep his grip. It wasn't elegant, there wasn't finesse in it, but there was strength and a relentless determination. Finally after what felt like hundreds of strikes Dain used his weight to tilt that great head back; with a shout and his remaining strength behind the thrust, the sword entered the toothed maw, puncturing through flesh and bone to pinion the brain. Now Dain allowed the death throes to fling him clear. He twisted so he could watch Uldred die, flesh seeming to melt from bones, filling the air with a tar like smoke. Dain found himself laughing, flat on his back arms spread wide laughing as he choked on the foul air. His cracked ribs ached and he couldn't bring in much air, but what he did he exhaled in laughter.

Alistair offered a hand; the gauntleted glove appeared in Dain's vision. He stared at it while he tried to catch his breath, but took it. Ignoring to the best of his ability the screaming pain in his chest. Alistair looked at once singed from flame and electricity and wet from snow and ice. But while he bled from his nostrils the once templar seemed well enough. To Alistair, Dain looked much worse. The wound on his brow bone hadn't been healed by Wynne and still wept blood especially after the exertions of the last fight. Scratches from the rage demons had seemed to have melted into the armour and soot and scorch covered the previously steel armour. Smudged blood ran from his nose and from his ears, but there had been no doubt that Dain had been laughing as Uldred had died.

"Irving?"

Alistair moved aside, behind him Wynne was helping Irving up; a few mages still sat and lay dumbfounded from the experiences. Dain drew his dagger and moved with Alistair helping to untie the stunned men and women.

"Dain?"

He looked up, seeing worry on Wynne's face.

"I wouldn't say no."

He managed a smile. Irving watched carefully as Wynne moved to the man who had saved them, her hands healer blue, roaming over his chest and face. The slice in his brow mended a bare white line through an eyebrow. Pain left his face though blood still dried in lines and smudges.

"Are you ready to go First Enchanter?"

Alistair asked. The elderly man nodded, but still stood bent over,

"I could use a hand; I don't think I can forgive those who thought it was a good idea for the mages to be housed in a tower."

Dain helped up the other mages and it was a silent group that descended through the now terror empty rooms. But there were exclamations of sadness and to his relief anger at what had been done to mages and templars alike.

* * *

><p>Leiliana had simply looked at each of them with utter relief on her face. The children though had erupted in shouts of joy as they had appeared in the doorway. Many moving to hug both Wynne and Irving, finally a smile on the old enchanter's face.<p>

"Did you hear that?"

Alistair asked, head titled slightly, as if the sound had barely been on the edge of his hearing. Dain froze too, and as one they drew their swords, moving to stand before the mages as it came from the basement door. It looked like a rage demon, but no attacks were pressed. It was as if there was no structure or purpose, simply a random allotment of thoughts. What both warriors hadn't been expecting had been the barrage of magic from the mages they had moved forward to defend. The demon didn't have a chance. It seemed to vibrate, exploding before it reversed and it imploded with a shudder of red. Then the room was quiet again. Dain used his sword to rake through the remains; the hilt of a broad sword came through the ashes. As he sheathed his own and grabbed it he drew out a massive great sword.

"Yusaris."

He said, uttering the name inscribed on the blade.

"Not bad for a days work."

Alistair said, looking back to the others. Dain nodded but sighed.

"We have to get Irving before Gregoir quickly in case the rite gets here."

* * *

><p>Irving strode at Dain's side. True to his word, it was only Irving's voice rising from behind the locked door that had it unlocked. Dain was impressed at the curse that had been ready on Irving's lips, but it had died as Gregoir appeared behind the struck door. There was no mistaking the utter relief on the knight commander's face.<p>

"There is no proof that all is well! There could be blood mages among them all right now."

A nerve twitched in Dain's eyebrow mimicked by one in Wynne's. But he knew that she wasn't think the same as he. That perhaps the templar was more trouble than was warranted.

"What? Nonsense."

Irving swept aside Cullen's fears like a tantrum from a small child.

"Order has been restored to the tower."

Dain said quietly, the antithesis to Cullen's nearly shouted words.

"With Irving before me I can believe it."

"Then I have your word for aide?"

"The templars place is with the mages."

"The mages will honour the treaty Dain, and I think with the templars as our eternal shadow, we will be flanked by a few."

While there was a glower in Gregoir's expression nothing was said. There was no let up in the pressure from the blight. Dain had been expecting something, but there was so much to do. And there was…

"Irving, I also came here for aide. The Arl of Redcliffe's son is ill, possessed by a demon. Can something be spared to aide him?"

Irving's reply was immediate.

"Of course. Even with the sadness remaining in the tower, we cannot let an innocent go unhelped. We will resupply and be gone as soon as we physically can."

Dain knew that Alistair smiled behind him, stood straighter at the pronouncement. Cullen though threw up his hands and stalked from the group. Dain ignored him as easily as Gregoir did.

"You did fine work Warden. There could be some truth in Irving's words. We would never let a mage out from the tower alone."


	17. Chapter 17 Trust and redemption

**Trust and redemption**

Irving was true to his word, two boats set sail from the tower. Leiliana sat with legs curled up on the deck of one, Alistair telling her of what had been awaiting them in the tower. Though his words were bereft of embellishment and flourishes that as a bard she would have added, the stark truth and detail of what he spoke of was enough to draw gasps and bitten off oaths. But Wynne, who leant against the side, knew that Alistair had avoided speaking of the Fade and whatever he had seen there.

"Dain found us and we managed to escape."

Was all he said on that part of the story. Darting a glance to Leiliana, Wynne could see that the bard was content to accept this, but there was something in the Orlesian's face that told the mage that she knew there was something more to the story. But Leiliana did not hone in on it, instead she believed this version and listened whole heartedly to the battle against Uldred.

"He was laughing. After everything…he was laughing."

In unison the two turned to look at Dain, who at the present time was taking the smooth gliding trip back to Redcliffe with closed eyes. Though he still wore his armour, uncleaned, he was lying back against a barrel. His head tipped back in a position surely to cause him a stiff neck when he awoke. Though his mouth was closed, there was the bare hint of a smile upon his lips. But as they watched his lip twitched and the ever present line between his brows was back. Then in less than a heart beat his eyes were wrenched open. Lifting his head he saw Leiliana and Alistair watching, Wynne far less obvious with her observation. He said nothing but rose, nearly awkwardly considering the armour and weighty weapons. Dain moved to the side, resting his arms upon it and leaning his weight forward. His pose was carefully chosen to hide the glint of those same destruction tears the fade dream had conjured. He crushed his eyes closed, concentrating on the spark of light behind his lids; he wished he would never have to sleep again and see each memory of his family now marked by blood red eyes and pointed teeth.

* * *

><p>Coming ashore was accomplished with a leap. The boats had been seen at the opening of the bay, many had come at the rushed message of the return of those who had left. Leiliana was helped down with Alistair's hands on her waist, all the while blushing the colour of a ripe tomato. Dain ignored them and moved to stand before Teagan.<p>

"Has there been any trouble?"

He was relieved when the Bann shook his head.

"None. We have spent the days you have been gone cleaning the castle and watching over Connor in the family quarters."

Teagan leant forward, whispering just for Dain,

"I cannot tell you the relief that threatened to collapse me when the runner came with the news of the Circle boats appearing at the heads. Though looking at you, I do not think that the tower was a welcoming place?"

Dain ignored the inferred question at the end, instead turning to Sten.

"It is good to see you Sten. I have some news about your sword."

There was an almost imperceptible flicker in Sten's eyes.

"A man named Faryn has headed to the Frostbacks. He more than likely has news of it, if not the blade itself."

There was wheezing behind him, Dain nodded to Sten and turned offering his arm automatically. Irving took it, but smiled more easily at Teagan.

"Bann Teagan, it is good to see you. Dain and Alistair have spoken some of what ails Connor. We shall hurry with the preparations and see what we can do for him."

Ser Perth gave Teagan and Irving a formal nod, but when Dain passed through the doorway he broke his stern mien and instead smiled, even offering his hand.

"I am glad to see you again Warden. During the nights, and even days, Connor has been still and silent. Our tensions have been high."

Dain nodded,

"As am I, Redcliffe has needed a guardian these last few days. It will be over soon Ser Perth; for better or ill, I cannot say. But all has been done that I have been able too."

* * *

><p>The mages were quick in setting up. Isolde watched them move with wide eyes, even openly flinching when one moved past. Dain frowned harder, it didn't alter even when Wynne nudged him with her arm. The lyrium leant the great hall a blue glow; Dain narrowed his eyes against it, instead looking at Morrigan. She stood leaning against a wall, it was obvious to all that she was an apostate. But Dain knew that despite her attitude to many of the others she travelled with, he would still defend her if templars had made any move towards her. As it was, Carroll, the only one Gregoir had spared; perhaps something to do with Irving's counsel, was outside rather than in the castle. Morrigan caught his look and winked. But it was not her than he would send to the Fade.<p>

"Who do you have in mind Dain?"

Wynne whispered, her eyes already on the lyrium. Perhaps she was afraid he would choose her, but he would not force her back to that place, not after what had happened to her in the hell/heaven offered by the Sloth demon. Instead Dain looked to one of Perth's men; he came up, thudding a hand to his chest.

"Where is Jowan?"

There was surprise in the man's face at the name, but he recovered.

"The mage is still in the dungeons."

It was to be expected, at least he wasn't dead.

"Would you go and bring him here. You will be in no danger."

Dain watched the man go, whispering quickly to his superior Perth before disappearing out of the hall. Dain thought on the blood mage in the time before he reappeared. Something about the earnestness of the mage had caught him. Made him believe in him, here he was in such a predicament; perhaps foreseen. But instead of railing against it or fighting for freedom, he had chosen to freely offer help. Isolde had flown into rages at the bare mention of his name, but Dain didn't care for whatever his reappearance would do to the Arlessa. Irving turned to Dain, as if it were a command every other eye turned to the Warden as well.

"We are all ready. Who do you wish to send to the Fade?"

The timing was good, Jowan appeared as his name was spoken. And it was an easy prediction that Isolde's face would turn from frightened beauty to something enraged and hideous. But Teagan seemed to have readied for this probability and grabbed her arm; her nails seemed like claws now. And though Jowan shied a little from her, he looked to Dain; was it for strength? Dain moved to the man, placing a hand on his shoulder. It drew surprised and speculative whispers from mages and the others alike.

"Why me?"

"Because though you did something bad, you do not hide away from doing what is right."

"Dain you cannot be serious there is nothing to trust there."

It was surprise to Dain that it was Irving who spoke those words. He half turned, allowing the Senior Enchanter see the raised eyebrows.

"On the contrary, I see much to trust here."

The silence that met his words were deafening. Dain turned back to Jowan,

"I know that you will do what is right. You have seen what lies back there Jowan, now is the chance to make it right and gain redemption."

It was a stuttering nod, but a nod nonetheless and his steps towards the lyrium were strong. Irving said nothing but as Jowan swallowed the lyrium he seemed to be compelled to offer a last piece of advice.

"Do not allow it to draw you into conversation. Defeat it and save the boy."

Jowan fell like he was suddenly lifeless. Both Alistair and Dain caught him, setting Jowan to the ground carefully. As Dain watched a cut appeared on the slack cheek, weeping blood immediately. Wynne slid to the ground beside the mage and wiped the trickle of red before healing the wound. Dain stood, standing before the two mages in a position of protection, Alistair mimicking the stance. It spoke much about the situation and where allegiances lay. Morrigan hadn't moved, but watching Dain with the blood mage, one already doomed by the Circle, the Chantry's templars and those of the Arl's family, being protected by both Wardens…it was enough for her to finetune some of her own attitudes and opinions.


	18. Chapter 18 Where to next?

**Where to next?**

Dain stood with Alistair, both men silent. As soon as Jowan had opened his eyes wearily a victorious smile on his face after so long in the Fade, Teagan had been brutal.

"Get him back to the dungeons."

Perth and one of his men had loomed up to take hold of the mage's week arms, but Dain had moved before them, a nearly immovable obstacle.

"This mage has just spent several hours in the Fade, battling a demon to save the Arl's son. I ask you to instead place him, guarded, into the room put aside for myself."

Perth looked to Teagan. The Bann was gnawing at a lip; thoughts must have been whirling in his head.

"Until he physically recovers, but after that he returns to the dungeons. I will wait until my brother recovers before further…action is taken."

Jowan managed a grin at Dain as Perth took his arm; the only thing keeping him up. Once he was gone Teagan turned to Alistair.

"Come let us see to Connor and see if Eamon fares better."

Wynne trailed after Perth and the nearly dragged Jowan, but she looked back eagerness showing on her face to also see to the unconscious Arl. Whether Teagan meant it or not Dain followed after Alistair. With a flicked glance to both Morrigan and Sten, these two fell into step behind; no one moving to stop the two.

* * *

><p>Dain looked at the grey haired man laying on the bed. It was obvious that the man was failing. Though he still seemed to be kept alive, with no physical sustenance Eamon was wearing away.<p>

"There is no change. Even with Connor awake and the demon dead, he still does not wake."

"The Ashes will save him."

Isolde said, rushing into the room. Her hair was pulled back not as carefully as it had been. But there was a high flush on her cheeks. Teagan clarified for her,

"Isolde believes that the ashes will heal Eamon; though most information points to them being a myth."

"No that is not true, a scholar in Denerim, Brother Genitivi, was researching them. Please, speak to him he will help you."

There was a pleading light in her eyes. Dain knew that he would have to go to the capital at some point, but the knowledge that Loghain was there, and Howe…He didn't realise the hate that rose in his chest was mirrored in his face. Alistair reached a hand to him, resting it gently upon the armoured shoulder. Dain lifted his gaze from the depth of feeling for Howe and it cleared from his face.

"We would appreciate a night within these walls before we set off in the morning."

Teagan nodded hurriedly. Dain didn't give any more answers, a yes or no to Isolde's request. Instead he strode from the room, unable to bear the sight of the weakening man.

* * *

><p>"Um Dain?"<p>

Another room had been quickly cleared and aired since Dain had given Jowan his other. Dain had taken advantage of the bath and now sat heavily in the large chair in the corner. His armour adorned a wooden dummy in the opposite corner and he wore simple hose and a dark coloured tunic. He lifted his eyes but his finger kept rubbing his lip in thought. Alistair leant on the frame an open expression on his face.

"Yes Alistair."

The Warden's face brightened and he entered, moving to lean on the armoire keeping his amber coloured eyes on the other.

"I was wondering what you wanted to do."

Dain took in a deep breath, reaching for the small silver goblet on a small table. Taking the time to sip at the contents before speaking.

"I want to head to the Frostbacks and Orzammar before I turn east."

Frown lines appeared on Alistair's forehead but he didn't speak.

"I would have continued that way after going to the circle, or mayhap travelled to Orzammar and then Calenhad's docks. But our paths changed from the bare plan I had when we found Redcliffe the way she was."

"Are you…afraid of going to Denerim?"

Dain's reply was a snort if humour.

"There are things I am afraid of Alistair, but the capital is not one of them. It just seems to make more sense to take on the dwarven treaty while we are geographically closer to it."

Alistair turned his head, seeming to look through walls. Dain knew that he thought upon his uncle, obvious even to him that the man was weakening.

"Yes, Eamon. I was more than hoping that he would awaken with the demon taken care of. But I know little of such matters. But Irving and Wynne do not seem surprised in the least. But I think I have to say, that there is no guarantee that Genitivi can help us, that the ashes even exist. And if they do, then if they can help us."

All his words seemed to be things that Alistair did not want to hear. Silence extended, Dain content to sip at the wine, though Alistair seemed to be getting up the stones to say something else. He pushed up from the armoire, Dain watched him then arose to stand too.

"I know that the anger you had in Eamon's room was not for Isolde, or Teagan. But the others, well Lei, Teagan and Isolde, are…scared. No that's not right…"

Words seemed to have failed Alistair. But to Dain his awkwardness was not placating. Instead the frustration at the topic turned quickly to anger.

"Some of it is for them Alistair. We break at dawn. Tell the others."

It was a coarse dismissal. Alistair could only nod at Dain's back. Leaving the younger man behind the closed door to his fury and hate.

* * *

><p>"So you are coming with us."<p>

Dain said as Wynne entered the hall. She smiled,

"You were there when I told Irving that I would be of more help with you than at the tower."

Dain just nodded, trying to hide the fact he was shifting his weight from side to side waiting for the others. Morrigan sauntered in, giving lascivious looks to some of the guards lining the walls. She smirked at Dain and moved to his side,

"Well, well, Alistair and Leiliana do not seem to be present. What could this mean?"

"If you are going where I think you are Morrigan, Sten is not here either."

A slim finger tapped a red stained lip,

"Oh, I had not thought…"

Dain turned away, there was no way that he wanted, or could, deal, with this sort of thing. Not after a night of listless sleep and a treacherous mind thinking of Howe. Why could he not block it out? Wynne looked worriedly at the Warden, but was relieved when Alistair entered the hall, Teagan not Leiliana at his side.

"Ho, Dain. So do you head for Denerim?"

Dain couldn't help but shiver at the hopefulness that drenched Teagan's seemingly nonchalant question. He merely stooped to pick up his shield and pack before giving him a quick answer, already moving to the main doors.

"No, Orzammar."


	19. Chapter 19 The Frostbacks

**The Frostbacks**

It was freezing, again they had been forced to pitch their tents. Anything to afford them shelter from the glacial winds that descended from the Frostback Mountains. As Dain lay curled in every article of clothing and blanket, he went over every single delay, each time they were forced to halt a barely started day of marching, because of weather, bandit attack and spawn ambush. But thinking about it nursed the anger in his chest and that seemed to afford a mental warmth that Dain kept well banked. The tent flapped as guide ropes were whipped from the ground, cold air finding entrance to his skin under a mound of fabric. Dain clenched his eyes closed and when he did manage to find sleep he heard the calls of the Archdemon and the thud of many marching dark spawn feet.

* * *

><p>At least the day had dawned clear. It was still cold and both stone path, grass and leaf where brutal with frost. Breath from every mouth came out like mist. The mountain path turned into a short pass, the sound of people up ahead had every ear piqued and tuned to the sound.<p>

"A market?"

Leiliana offered, her face seemed to light up at even the thought of the possibility of shoes. Dain didn't answer, but led the group through the archway and over the bridge guarded by statues of paragons. Both dwarves and humans made up the crowd around the massive gates to Orzammar. It did seem like a market, but one that seemed to be stop gap. Dain moved to the closest, a male dwarf turned and looked up at him.

"Why are the gates closed?"

"You seem new. Orzammar is in crisis. The dwarven king returned to the stone not three weeks ago. The gates haven't been opened since then."

Dain turned away, remembering Alistair's words, instead giving his anger to a copse of trees as he thought upon the dwarf's words. Instead he saw something else. He motioned to Sten.

"I think I see someone who fits the description of squirrelly."

Sten didn't seem to move but he appeared at Dain's side, looking with eager eyes at the merchant Faryn. Flanked by Alistair and an interested Morrigan they moved to intercept the man. As soon as he clapped eyes upon the massive Qunari the man gulped and attempted to sidle away.

"How refreshing, a merchant who doesn't want to sell his goods."

Morrigan said, easily moving to fill the gap Faryn tried to shy through.

"Not at all…um I'll sell things."

"I have reliable information that you came across a few dead Qunari on Lake Calenhad."

"Qunari? I don't know…"

Dain gestured to Sten who fulfilled his part by crossing broad arms over his broader chest.

"Like him."

Faryn barely got out a squeak.

"Did you happen to take any weaponry you found there?"

His mouth drooped open showing poorly cared for teeth but it was barren of even the squeak from earlier.

"Sten, tear his arms off."

Fingers cracked ominously, but it was enough to have the skinny merchant speak.

"No! I mean, yes I did take some. Sold it pretty quick to a collector. Honest."

Sten advanced on the man, Alistair looked at the man with a little worry, perhaps he did think that Sten would carry the threat through. Morrigan though was grinning happily, perhaps she wanted Sten too.

"In Redcliffe. A dwarf named Dwyn."

His words came out quickly in a high pitched squeal. It stopped Sten's advance.

"I am familiar with Dwyn. Let me tell you Faryn, if you are lying and I'll find out, you wont have just Sten to deal with, I will be wanting my own piece of you."

"I told you everything."

All the air wheezed out of Faryn, and Dain caught the whiff of urine. Perhaps he and Sten's act had been too convincing. He frowned and sighed, Morrigan and Alistair moving off quickly. But Faryn was a merchant,

"Excellent. What else have you got?"

* * *

><p>Alistair seemed to have told Wynne and Leiliana what had transpired. Both looked at him disapprovingly. But he ignored them and they still followed him towards the gates. As they ascended the stairs a loud and indignant voice pierced ears.<p>

"I am Imrek, emissary of the Regent Loghain Mac Tir, I demand entrance to see your leader."

"I don't care who you are and what you are here for, the gates to Orzammar are closed and are going to stay that way."

The three dwarf guards manning the massive stone doors swapped looks with each other. Dain moved to stand before them, Loghain's emissary looked them up and down ready to argue some more. Dain didn't deign to acknowledge him, instead offering the guard captain the dwarven treaty.

"I am a Grey Warden and I carry documents that promise aide from the dwarven council during a blight."

The captain looked carefully at the seal on the treaty, but before he could speak Imrek barked out.

"A Warden! He is counted a traitor by the Regent, I demand that you kill him."

Dain finally turned to the man, finding him very small and insignificant. The captain spoke,

"These bear the seals of ancient houses. The assembly must see this. You may enter Warden."

As Dain took back the treaty and made to enter through the gap in the gates his arm was grabbed by Imrek. His actions and reply was swift. He spun his arm, grabbing Imrek's instead, his other hand drawing and holding the tip of his dagger against his throat. At the move those guarding the emissary made to attack, they didn't when he spoke.

"Do you think that you can stop me before I kill him? Let me and mine pass and you run back to Loghain. Alive. But if you wish further negotiation you will not be whole. Fight me and you will not return at all."

His words impressed the dwarves and they even smirked at the pale face of Imrek. He stopped further movement from the others with a jerky nod. Dain released him and entered into the warmer confines of the Hall of Heroes. Alistair shoulder barged Imrek, but the man danced backwards as Sten loomed. Dain kept the emissary's eyes as the gates slowly ground closed. More than a little bit of him wished that Imrek had pressed his luck.


	20. One foot in front of the other

_Sozza for the shortness of this chapter, but I have pasted two tonight. So please enjoy and review._

* * *

><p><strong>One step after the other<strong>

Dain was as silent as Sten; both looking more like the statues of the stone paragons lining the hall of heroes than living. For Dain the whole situation, since those massive stone doors had closed, pissed him off. Two factions –playing a bloody and volatile war with each other, though both seemed united on the point of locating the only living Paragon to halt the stalemate. It fell to him. Again. But this time Dain could feel in every pulse of blood through his veins, the heaviness of the horde and the arch demon closer than it had ever been before. Searching for, never mind the slim possibility of finding this Branka, meant going further, into the Deep Roads. When Alistair had spoken to him in Redcliffe of being afraid of Denerim, his mind had gone to the dwarven city as the source of fear. Now there were two options, the first not really an alternative; leave the dwarves to their squabbling and political blockading, without the treaty fulfilled, or do what needed to be done and locate Branka and in doing so choose the next King and leave with dwarven allies. Already Dain had fought in their Provings, for the former King's apparently endorsed heir Lord Harrowmont, against the other the King's only living son Bhelen Aeducan. Sighing Dain finally blinked looking at the others. They had all crowded into his room in the sprawling estate of Harrowmont; as their patron and after proving trust in the Provings and in the cleaning out of the Cartel, Harrowmont had gifted them a wing of his home for their use. Morrigan, Leiliana and Wynne sat on the bed, granted the apostate leaned away from the other two women. She had worn not her usual sneer since entering the underground city, but instead a look of fiercely hidden fear. She had voiced her horror of being under the tons of rock above them only once, couched in angry sour words. Alistair leant against the door; arms crossed his bottom lip pushed out in thought. In Dain's mind there was only one magical option: Wynne. He couldn't truly rely on Morrigan if her fear got the better of her, especially in the deep roads. Alistair he knew wouldn't leave him alone to face the threat of spawn here; the only silver lining that he could see. It left Leiliana or Sten. Those who stayed with Harrowmont would effectively be his bodyguards. If Dain put him on the throne he had to be alive, there was no one he could rely upon more than those who were in the room.

"Do we have a plan?"

Sten said, breaking the silence. Dain strode to the fire burning bright and paced up and down.

"I have no idea the timeframe that exists to pull off something like this. Especially since we do not know the scale of the Deep Roads and whether Branka could or has survived. It could take days, weeks, or even months…I do not know how it will affect Alistair and I, being down there. But regardless we will both be going. Harrowmont has promised us a good supply of lyrium, from what I've learnt from the shaperate and Harrowmont's men, the fighting down there will be nothing short of brutal, healing will probably be the main focus for the mage."

"I will be coming with you Dain."

Not just Dain had realised Morrigan's dread fear. But Wynne was careful not to look at the other mage as she spoke.

"I will come. If there is more to learn about the spawn it will be down there."

Whatever terms it was couched in, Dain was glad to have the tall Qunari at his side.

"Very well. Dulin Forender is organising supplies. We will be ready to move in a few hours. Morrigan, Lei, do not let Harrowmont move without one of you there. I trust Dulin, but Bhelen will have spies everywhere. When we return Harrowmont needs to be alive."

His words were met with silence. Sten was the first to move, everyone but Alistair moving after him. He simply closed the doors and returned to leaning on it.

"Worried?"

"Stating the obvious I think Alistair. But yes, I do not relish the thought of entering the Deep Roads. I would rather face dark spawn on the surface under a sky not made of stone. But it seems that the path of Warden is not easy. Plus it will give practise of what there is to face at the end."


	21. Chapter 21 Broodmother

**Brood mother**

It was far past terrifying. Dain's entire body felt cold. It was with pure mental will that his sword rose and fell; his shield braced to defend. The bile and vomit that she spewed out stung his face; he couldn't spare the time and effort involved to try and wipe it away. With her terrible deep moans she drew more and more of the deformed dark spawn to defend her. Oghren was on his knees, but still managed to crush and slice the enemies ganging up on him with his brutal axe, Alistair was braced on one knee, pushing and fending with everything left. Dain couldn't help the scream that passed his bitten lips as the tentacle wrapped itself around his chest, tightening harshly. Armour creaked and bent, crushing his body beneath it. The shield fell from a broken arm, it flailed useless as he was shaken. But despite everything the sword stayed gripped tight. Though black and red grew in his vision Dain saw what he had to do. With a prayer to Wynne for her to be fine enough to try and heal him he chopped down, mercifully finding the weak spot; he fell to the ground taking the fall with bent knees and using it instantly he powered up. Now it was his turn for an attack, as he batted away her stubby arm, the tip entered the soft flesh, tainted blood squirting out at the severed artery, splashing over him, covering his vomit burns with new hurt. Dain couldn't draw in any deep breaths; the broken armour encased him too tightly. He reached out, trying to throw his weight forward violently to counteract the toxic tentacle wrapped around his neck. Now there was no breath, but with darkening eyes he saw the blade enter her neck, slight resistance then it was through and she was already weakening. Dain did not feel the double thud of arrows, finding easily his sweaty torso the armour had bared to view. The tentacle slid and fell back bringing him down with it, crashing in a finality that brought Wynne to scream.

With their brood mother now nothing but a still bleeding carcass the remaining spawn fled. Oghren stayed kneeling on the ground, but turned his head to look at the man lying motionless just beyond him. Alistair was first to him, severing the tentacle and drawing it free. It had left its own burns on his neck, slices from the small spikes hidden in the ends. But worse were the barbed black arrow heads that sat proud of his chest. In their crude but effective stone tips was flesh and the remains of Dain's under tunic. Wynne fell to her knees, though her face was so pale and her lips thin, her hands seemed to know what to do and moved quickly. With Alistair's help she unbuckled his chest plate and gauntlets, levering and bending anew when the armour fought against leaving the broken body, tossing the useless armour away with angry vehemence. Metal had pierced his skin when it had bent uncontrollably against such force; Wynne wiped the blood away with her hands, dismissing the more minor wounds. Alistair looked at the elderly mage; she was whispering something under her breath, hands checking the entry and exit wounds trying to figure out the best option for removal, but all the while blood spewed from the wound; no motion from Dain as he lay beneath their hands. Blood had spat out from his mouth at the double strikes, foaming pink. Alistair said something under his breath before he reached for the black shafts, breaking them and drawing both broken arrows free in one move. Wynne glanced up in shock at the seemingly harsh move, but she set her hands upon the wounds, the light blue healing glow covering them, drawn deep into the wound.

"How's he doing?"

Oghren said, finally managing to drag himself to his feet to see to the man. He had been impressed, as scared as he had been and would never admit. Dain had disregarded every outside enemy, determining that the brood mother was the biggest threat, the cause for this attack. But whenever he had allowed his gaze to flicker back, each time Dain had been taking strikes, blood flying from another broken nose, from his lips, crouching behind the still sturdy shield. But no one had seen the spawn archer; none had seen the double strike that had managed to fell Dain. Alistair could only watch, and thank the Maker that Wynne had said that she would follow them into the darkness of the Deep Road and Dead Trenches. He thanked the Maker that the mage was such an accomplished healer, and he prayed to the Maker that this time was no different and Dain would jump up, with scars but ready, able and willing to continue. But there was no movement, even when the blue faded. Wynne lifted her hands and placed them on her thighs. The wounds were still raw, the blood only slightly sluggish.

"Do it again."

Alistair said, it didn't resonate around the stone chamber, but died with no echo. She did, though this time the light was weaker. She lifted her hands, the wounds still open. Now the blood had stopped, but not through healing.

"Alistair…"

"No! He will not die here, not yet."

Wynne was surprised at the fury desperation had leant the Warden's voice. Though she saw Alistair most of the time as mellow and like a naive puppy, it seemed endless times that she had followed the warrior into battle; she knew what he was capable of. But now she was as helpless as he.

"I don't think there is anything more I can do."

Her voice was whisper quiet, but for however hushed her words were they dove like daggers into Alistair's brain. Oghren shivered, with just the four of them he had been worried, but then he had seen the prowess of the two surfacers, how they fought together so well for their different styles. But now with their leader fallen, how could they? They still had far to go to find Branka. How could they with only three? Alistair looked at Wynne, moisture shone in his eyes,

"Once more, please. Once more. He is my…brother."

Wynne didn't have much left inside. Her shoulders must have lowered slightly in acceptance and Alistair offered the small vial of lyrium. Setting it to her mouth Wynne quickly swallowed the liquid, gagging a little at the rush of energy and mana. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, disregarding the blood drying on her skin. Wynne placed her hands on the wounds, pressing hard, as if to force the magic deeper to physically force healing. Zevran watched Dain; he had never seen the man as still as he was now. He had been silent, but Alistair had found calmness there, regardless of whatever was going on inside Dain's head - there had been life there. Alistair seemed to shrink into himself, wishing that Leiliana was there; surely with her this would all be better? Wynne watched the blue drain into Dain's body, and despite all outward appearances she knew, or maybe it was the spirit within; she felt better. Something was utilising the magic, it wasn't dissipating. She looked at Alistair who crouched helplessly,

"Alistair, I think we need to rest here for a while."

He nodded and turned to Oghren. Together they checked over each spawn body and somewhat reluctantly the brood mothers. Wynne placed her hand on Dain's forehead, clasping a loose hand in the other.

"Come on Dain. There is not time for rest yet. There is a long journey to go, we need you."

Alistair turned to look at Wynne, she was speaking to Dain.

"He'll wake up. He's tougher than he looks…though he looks mighty tough. To be honest he's acting like a sodding duster."

* * *

><p>Sound returned with a high pitched squeal that hurt his ears. No physical jump or movement showed this. Dain still felt so cold; with a new slow shudder he finally managed a breath. It hurt, as if his lungs and throat were openly raw. But Wynne, with her hands placed gently on his chest felt the shudder and shivering, and smiled. He couldn't feel his body; but Dain felt strangely and fuzzily content to just release a breath and stay calm knowing he could take in another. After a time, he couldn't understand how long, he became aware of a dull pain in his chest, sparks of red flared every so often. It moved him to cough. Alistair and Oghren spun at the weak sounds. Wynne moved quickly, angling him up from the hard stones. Alistair moved to kneel behind, offering his legs as a brace. The coughs were weak, but enough to have foamy blood appear on dry lips. Using some of their hoarded water Wynne wiped his face clean. Dain's eyes flickered, but only the whites were visible. His previously ruthlessly cut hair had grown in the time since Ostagar; far more pressing things on his mind. She didn't notice her movements, but Wynne's free hand soothed the longer hair, sweeping it to the side from his forehead. There was sweat beading slowly underneath, a good sign though it could eventually dehydrate him.<p>

"He'll be alright?"

Alistair hadn't meant it to be a question, but at the very end his voice lifted. His eyes met Wynne's with trepidation, but there was a positive light there and he felt his shoulders relax. To be honest he hadn't really allowed himself to dwell or think upon what would happen if they had left Dain's body here, behind them.

* * *

><p>Behind his closed eyes, Dain couldn't register the images reeling across his lids; they spewed too fast from a shocked mind. But they started to slow as he forced himself to concentrate. Then he came aware of whispers, originally he thought it wind, but they seemed to stop and start; it started to make sense. It was only when a retort came to mind that everything seemed to crystallise. It made him jerk with its force. Wynne quickly pulled him from Alistair's legs laying him fully out on the cavern's hard ground. Alistair flinched back as surely as Oghren did at the quick movement, she gave them a few words to explain; her hands already blue with healing as she moved them over Dain's body.<p>

"Could be a seizure."

It was sudden but quick. His muscles tensed, like stones in his jawline. And then they were gone.

"Alistair?"

His words were quiet, cracking through dry lips. But his eyes opened; bare slits at first. Alistair laughed, probably the only time the Deep Roads had heard that sound. He crouched at Dain's side, the Warden's eyes slowly sliding to take him in. There was no hesitation as Dain's hand lifted slowly; Alistair enveloped it in his own.

"Maker Dain, you cannot do that again."

Dain found himself surprised at the emotion he could hear in Alistair's voice, close to breaking. He studied their clasped hands again before looking back up to the Warden.

"I think it was just a lucky strike."

Oghren snorted, swigging as he was from the skin at his side, some came from his nose. Alistair laughed again and moved so once more Dain was sitting up, relying on his friend's strength to do so, reclining half on his legs. He dropped his head, seeing his body uncovered, the still grisly wounds on the side of his chest. The muscles inside and around the injury were still painful, each breath tinged with it. But now he was glad there was pain, it made him glad he was alive. He didn't need the added worried looks on his companions' faces to know how close he had been to death.

"Bitch ruined my armour."

Wynne giggled first, Oghren who had just wiped down his chin and whiskers snorted spirits again gagging and choking. Dain lifted his heavy head,

"If you are going to waste it Oghren, I'll gladly partake."

The red headed dwarf passed it over, moving to join the sitting circle. His hands shook as he held it, but Dain lifted it to his lips sipping at the fiery liquid. It was impressive, and in a healthy state Dain would have appreciated it, right now it threatened to spew right back up again. Wynne took it off him, taking a swallow before passing it back.

"How long since we left Wynne?"

Dain whispered. It had been a tough ask; to figure out how long it had been since they had entered the Deep Roads, here where there was no night and day, no cold to its heat.

"Maybe as much as a few months. As short as a few weeks. But with everything, too long."

For all the pain, worry and stress pushing him on, for now Dain was satisfied to lie where he was. He knew it couldn't last long, but fighting the way he felt now was going to be an impossible ask.

"Do you have enough energy to heal me again Wynne?"

It seemed to remind Alistair. He patted the ground around him and offered Wynne what he had found.

"Brood mother had hidden a few, the genlocks had some."

She smiled, but winced as she swallowed down a larger vial of glowing lyrium. She tossed it with a little anger at the dead brood mother. It thudded against the cooling flesh. Dain smiled. With a deep breath Wynne touched her hands to Dain's shoulders. He felt the healing this time, cold and snaking tendril like fingers moving to gather around the hurts he could feel. Now he could take a deep breath, his muscles were stiff but not painful.

"You're lucky Dain; she was hoarding some other surprises. I'm sure it would fit you."

The break didn't last much longer. There were unhidden winces as Dain stood, legs locking ruthlessly, extending cold muscles to don his new armour. As the buckles were tightened Dain felt the worries of before settle as surely as the armour did. He forced his mind to think instead upon the armour, it was beautifully made and made the worry of further injury to his newest wound dissipate.

"Have we rested enough?"

He asked the others already on their feet. There were nods and smiles. Alistair grinned at Dain, kept grinning even after the Warden had returned to lead them once more. The Maker had come through for him, and at each step he sent a prayer of thanks.


	22. Chapter 22 To name a King

**To name a King**

Perhaps they thought them spectres, or maybe even spawn. Or perhaps they simply had not expected them to return at all. But the line of guards parted, allowing the four to leave the arched doorway from the Roads. Dain still led them; he didn't notice but eyes lingered upon him. The near mortal injury at the hands of the genlock archer, the piecemeal healing and then the terrible rendezvous with Branka had taken a more obvious toll on him. His eyes seemed so sunken in his face, but the green irises glinted dangerously above nearly black bruises. The others had the same bruising, even Oghren, but not inked so deep as Dain's. He had also developed a limp, perhaps an effect of the way he twisted his torso a little, leading with the other uninjured side. Only his voice had a real relation to the Warden who had left Orzammar,

"Call the Assembly, it's ending now."

One guard nodded, stumbling into a run, heralding the news of the returning Warden, minus the paragon Branka. Wynne sighed, Alistair moving immediately to her side, offering his arm. She frowned at the Warden, but it didn't last under the grin he gave and she settled her arm into his. Dain knew that the others could see how tired and spent he was; but it didn't by any means signify that he would admit it. But furiously to himself, he knew that he was almost tapped dry. He had fooled his mind for the last few days, just to this Thaig, just to this junction. Just two more dark spawn. And now, just for the Assembly. But this time his body would hold him to it, after he had given the paragon forged crown he would collapse; preferably out of sight of any, including those behind who had seen the injuries he still carried. Blood stained everyone, Wynne's robes, the others armour, gloves and faces. Flanked now by two fully armoured dwarves they moved through Orzammar, silence preceding them, nobles, commoners and the few casteless watching with wide eyes and open mouths. Perhaps they understood finally what he had been tasked to do, to decide the future for them. Dain met no eyes, instead lifting his head towards the massive doors of the Assembly, breath stubbornly taken through his nose; he wanted no telltale stain of red flecked spit. There was a well armed gauntlet in front of the still closed doors; he could have predicted the next few seconds like he was reliving them. Abruptly supporters of the 'next King Bhelen' appeared, weapons already drawn. To Dain it moved in slow motion, one axe was swung in a murderous arc; he merely stepped outside the destructive angle before stepping back inside. His dagger now sheathed inside the wielder's head. He pulled it out smoothly, red and grey matter on the blade. It parried a sword, carving aside the dagger in the opponent's off hand, it tore open the black bearded neck; another red splash to join the black blood already covering his armour. He turned, but the others had already ended the puny last ditch attack. The bodies were roughly pushed aside. Dain simply sheathed his weapon and moved up the stairs, the doors opening to engulf them all.

"We all know that Harrowmont has the Wardens in his pocket, all they do is make a mockery of the Assembly and the deshyrs."

Bhelen's outcry was the last weapon in his previously vast arsenal. Dain had seen the look of desperation on his face. But he had spoken already, now he would just make his decision with gestures. He drew the angular and heavy Caridin forged crown, holding it for all those assembled to see. There were hushed whispers, only the steward drew near, his voice speeding around the circular hall,

"It bears the seal of the paragon Caridin…who did he choose?"

Dain knew it was important, there was a distinction to make.

"He did not choose. He forged this knowing that he had lived past his time."

"Enough!"

The steward's voice was enough to quell the calls of outrage and disgust. There were whispers reticent to die, but they did as the steward glared around the chamber.

"The ancestors have spoken, the paragon has done this, knowing it is the Warden who shall decide."

Dain simply turned his head, looking wearily at Harrowmont.

"Lord Harrowmont."

It erupted into swords and shouts of outrage. Weapons were drawn by guards and deshyrs alike. Bhelen lunged, predictably, for Harrowmont. But Alistair and Dain closed into an armoured wall before him. Bhelen paused, dropping his head to look confusingly at the arrow shafts sprouting from his chest. Dain didn't have to look behind him to know Leiliana, perched higher in the galleries, held her bow ready with more. Dain didn't lower his sword until Bhelen fell upon his knees. Blood sliding from the corners of his mouth. His followers were slaughtered as quickly as their leader. The light died in Bhelen's still angry eyes; Dain turned away. Harrowmont wore the crown well, Dain was grateful to see no relief on his face as he glanced at the dead body of his rival.

"You will be a strong king."

A smile appeared on Harowmont's face, Dain wasn't sure if it was in humour or sorrow.

"I think that I would rather be known as a good nd just king. Strong is too often linked with tyrannical."

A sigh followed his words; his next were louder, all dwarves turning to listen to their new king.

"We will honour the treaty forged between our ancestors and yours, Grey Warden. You will have your dwarven allies while you battle the blight."

At a gesture close to his side, a dwarven aide moved up, offering the metal stave to Harrowmont. He in turn offered it to Dain.

"This was my symbol of office while I was King Endrin's advisor. Take it, a sign of our bond."

Dain nodded, tightening his hand ruthlessly around the staff. Leiliana had joined Wynne and Alistair. She stood close to them, looking earnestly into their eyes, holding their hands to make sure they were alright. As he moved up to them she did the same to Dain. Her blue eyes looked worried as she took in the pain etched into the lines around Dain's eyes, the lines cutting from the corner of his mouth. But she said nothing, instead leading them out. Sten nodded from his stance near the door. Dain met his eyes, giving the Qunari the same treatment; he fell into step behind the group.

Dain recognised the heavily tattooed dwarf who waited on the Assembly stairs.

"So, you've done the impossible and given us a King. Warden, the Legion will cut off the spawns retreat after the arch demon is slain. I think that if a surfacer like you can do what you have done, it's the least the Legion can do."

Dain smiled,

"There will be more topside Karol. Can I convince you to show the others how many ways a dark spawn can die, up on the surface?"

The heavy set dwarf ran a hand through the braids on his chin.

"I'm always up for showing how it's done. You will have an ally, provided we don't all float into the sky."

* * *

><p>There were so many faces showing gratitude that Dain was relieved to hide behind the doors and walls of Harrowmont's estate.<p>

"The staff were put on notice when word of your return came. Your rooms are ready."

"Dear, you have no idea how much I have been praying for a bath."

Morrigan had appeared, leaning on a door. Dain watched Wynne disappear, Lady Harrowmont at her side. He then looked at Morrigan,

"Could I ask a favour?"

A slim eyebrow rose,

"I require some aide, would you."

No one missed Morrigan's sashay through the hall into his room. Leiliana said nothing, though her eyes narrowed. Alistair turned to her to explain.

She had to help him take off his armour. His muscles had now near totally shut down; it was all he could do to stay upright. Morrigan tossed the gauntlets to the chest plate, casually rolled into the corner, ripping the undershirt that was nearly ribbons. The frown was evident in her voice as she spoke not looking up from studying his wound.

"I do not know what it was that you faced down there Dain, but I would have thought that Wynne could have healed this."

"She did. Four times."

He looked down; not voluntarily, his head was feeling heavier and heavier. Her golden eyes looked surprised, he didn't think that he had really seen that look in them before.

"Oh."

She stood, pulling the bandages fully from his chest, tossing them carelessly to the ground. They were mostly red and black. He couldn't really feel her hands as they settled on the wound; as if the skin and wound was numb. Blue light coloured his lids as he closed his eyes. This time it felt like sparks, heat or light, travelling on the surface of his skin and up inside each vein. Perhaps this time would be better. There was barely a knock on the door before it was thrown open. Dain still only slowly turned his head to the side, opening his eyes to register those who had entered his room so abruptly. Several female dwarf servants, each carrying steaming buckets of water, moved in, tipping them into the stone bath. It took several trips, many of them ogling both he and Morrigan; and the wound on his side. But he had heard those kind of giggles before.

"Try that Dain. I think that with sleep the healing will be complete. Enjoy your bath."

Dain didn't notice the way her eyes only slowly released him. The steam from the bath made him shake, with movements reminiscent of an old man he managed to take off his leggings and underclothes without falling over. While the tub had been made with a dwarven bent, the architect had taken into mind perhaps a more social aspect. Dain slid into the tub, the water coming up to mid chest. For a while he breathed lightly, the water seemed ready to peel skin. He had been holding his breath when the water had covered his wound. But the further healing Morrigan had performed had seemed indeed to make it more whole. Dain rested his head back on the edge of the bath and tried to relax. Thinking for now wholly on the temperature of the water.


	23. Chapter 23 The Crows

_Yay, time for the appearence of everyone's favouritest assassin! Please R&R lovelies!_

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><p><strong>The Crows<strong>

He had been quiet for a while, a long while. More so than usual, normally Leiliana was able to draw him into a conversation. But now no matter how much she tried, leading questions even questionable innuendo, he just walked. She knew what they had gone through, even Morrigan had spoken of the wounds on him, the faint scars of lacerations visible still ringing his neck. Maybe his silence was a remainder of the sheer physicality and pressure that had seemed to nearly crush both he and Alistair in the Deep Roads. Neither of them had really spoken much about that time, even with Wynne who had accompanied them; Alistair had offered a little after Wynne had spoken to those who had not entered those black caves. The terror of the Brood Mother, the injuries that even Wynne had found difficult to heal. And then the overpowering shock of seeing the Archdemon and the horde it led. But even out of the dark and heat of Orzammar, sleep hadn't been forth coming for either of the Wardens. It showed in the lack of retorts and awkward comments from Alistair, instead he had snapped at Oghren, even though he had regretted it quickly. The dwarf had been in a perpetual hangover, an affect of living life no longer under miles of solid stone, Wynne had said it would pass eventually, but so far the dwarf had drunk every iota of alcohol, including that which both Wynne and Morrigan used for making their poultices and simples. It had been a close thing with Morrigan nearly throwing the ball of fire that had surged in her hands. Oghren had escaped with a singed beard, and they had all learnt new dwarven curses.

"Please, you have to help. They're attacking the wagons."

The woman was terrified, there was sweat on her face and as she looked at them she wrung her hands. She dashed looks back to where she had come from, unable to keep her feet still. Dain lifted his head then looked at Alistair, the man already nodding.

"Show us."

His voice was harsh from little use.

"Oh thank you!"

She spun, Dain, Alistair, and Leiliana close behind. Morrigan and Wynne were slower. Oghren and Sten had stayed behind at the camping site. Oghren because he was stone cold unconscious. Sten simply because his idea of arguing was to stay silent. They erupted into a clearing, ringed by a tall bank. The ox pulling the cart had been slaughtered, the woman screamed and sprinted away. The Wardens slowed, no feeling of darkspawn but the feeling of something awkward about the situation. An elf appeared, dark skinned and obviously carrying weapons. What they didn't see was the smirk and nod she gave to him. Alistair jerked forward, striking Dain on his back, both fell to their knees, the huge tree thundered to the ground barely missing them.

"The Grey Wardens die here!"

His voice was Antivan, Dain would never forget that accent. He watched the elf draw two blades from his back, archers appearing on the banks around them and then the glow as the woman drew magic. His reply was a growl,

"Alistair, kill the mage."

The ripple of Templar power rippled around the clearing, so obviously the apostate mage faltering, Alistair with his sword raised sprinted towards her. Absentmindedly Dain raised his shield, bolts and arrows thundering into the front. As he lowered it he dragged it up again, defending the slash of the elf's blades. He was fast and well trained. But as Dain fought him, defending all the time, he noticed that he had no regard for his own wellbeing. Moves were made that had him open to any retaliatory move that he could put together. It was odd and disconcerting; finally Dain took a blatant opening. He thundered his weapon into the crossed swords, destroying his opponent's defence. But instead of making the killing blow, he chopped down with his shield viciously and the elf crumpled to the ground. Spinning he went after the others. Alistair had killed the mage and was defending Leiliana as she fired her own arrows.

"Morrigan would you please!"

With a wicked grin she lifted her hands. It was utter destruction. Sparks travelled from assassin to assassin. Hair burnt, skin shrivelled and the smell of burning death filled the air. But when the electricity was gone, the clearing was silent and they were the only ones alive. Bar the elf. Dain sheathed his sword, anger in the move.

"How are your knots?"

A knowing grin lifted Alistair's lips, but it was Leiliana who stole the rope and knelt before the elf,

"Mine are tighter."

"Don't make him too comfortable. I want answers."

* * *

><p>Dain paced around the clearing, he had searched all the bodies before carrying them down to the back of the wagon. Fury raged in him now; everyone could see it and didn't speak to him, didn't even make eye contact. Though Leiliana looked to Wynne, the two speaking in lifted eyebrows and shrugged shoulders. The groaning from an awakening elf had Dain now standing over him, arms crossed.<p>

"Mmmm? What?"

Dain didn't say anything, but let the elf open his eyes and see the predicament he was now in. He tested his twisted wrists; the rope simply tightening at the move the rough fibres ripping at his skin. His feet the same, drawn out and knotted painfully.

"Oh. I thought I would wake up dead, or not at all."

"Trust me, your situation is easily remedied."

Already narrowed eyes slanted further, the headache he no doubt had not helping with identifying his position and who he spoke to. Dain knelt and saw the recognition birth.

"Ah, the Grey Wardens."

"Yes the Grey Wardens, one of them who you tried to kill. Do you need incentive to offer up your reasons for that?"

"If you want answers, I'm not sure that violence will be conducive to getting honest ones."

Dain smiled, it wasn't nice. Even the assassin swallowed awkwardly at the sight.

"You would be surprised, pain is a great motivator. I have two mages present, one who heals rather well, the other whose moral leanings are to be honest suspect. Together, I believe the experience would be…I'm sure that your perspective would change. I also have another Warden who doesn't like you at the moment and a bard whose imagination could well give me some ideas. And I? I like violence."

"To be honest, that was obvious. Very well, I am an Antivan Crow."

"Oh, I know them. They are a guild of assassins, based in Antiva, well known even in Orlais."

The assassin was preening, even in his painful position.

"Not for being good assassins I see."

"So this is how you Fereldens treat your prisoners, I'm hurt."

"I don't know about Fereldens, but you don't need your limbs to speak."

Dain made for his sword.

"Oh, well yes I suppose. Let me explain. My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. The Crows were paid a large amount of money to make sure that you were dead."

"Who paid you?"

"Not me, the Crows. A rather taciturn fellow in the capital…Logan, Loghain. Yes that's it. But we were introduced by a man who looked like a weasel, named Howe."

Dain spun, moving to the fallen tree. He thundered punch after punch into the wood. Welcoming the spark of pain, then the throb. Finally he managed to rein in his anger and he turned. Morrigan was openly smiling, Wynne was looking at him in worry. But there was anger on Alistair's face too and he felt relief. He cracked his knuckles as he stalked back.

"Why did you take it?"

"Er, I was in the neighbourhood. Plus it would have really made my career if I had pulled it off."

It was said with a coy grin, but all Dain could think of were the wild swings and open shots.

"Glad you didn't."

Alistair said, not quite under his breath. Dain looked at him carefully out the corner of his eye before turning back to the elf. Now he saw the blood seeping from the fine nose and the swelling eye.

"Or couldn't."

There was a flicker at his quiet words.

"Might I ask what you plan to do with me?"

Dain scratched his chin, lifting his eyebrows as he looked at Alistair, the Warden shrugged.

"Oh, I could think of several things."

"Kinky. But I would like to offer something else. I have failed in my mission, therefore my life is forfeit. In the eyes of my fellow crows I am dead. I would like to offer you something."

"I know your life is forfeit. I own you. But I will hear what you're offering."

Wynne stepped forward; obviously she wished to say something. But Alistair caught her eye, shaking his head slightly. Her brow creased,

"Alistair, this is…"

Dain didn't turn his head to look at the elderly mage, he just looked at the man who lay on the ground before him, bound tightly and injured. He felt nothing.

"Thank you. I have a few rather useful skills. I am rather good with poisons, I like fiddling with locks. I know several card games, am proficient in the art of Antivan massage. And also make a very nice bed warmer. If I do say so my self, though I have also been told. Many times. And if the Crows try anything else against you, I would be in a position to notify you. If you allow, I will swear myself to you."

"Right. And you show me the same amount of loyalty as you gave to your last employers."

"When I am forced to kill in order to survive, I think that any agreement is void, no?"

"Do we look like we are peace advocates? Isolationists?"

"No, of course not. You look like you need all the help you can get. I dare say I have a better chance of survival with you, rather than against you."

Dain knelt before the elf, looking at him carefully. He had seen that look in those eyes before, when he had looked at himself in the mirror at Highever with Duncan. The loss of everything, of love and nearly of life. Was he able to offer any kind of redemption or was he setting himself up for a slit throat in the night? Even as he thought he drew his dagger, the elf closed his eyes in resignation. They flew open as Dain cut the ropes binding his hands, but he didn't help the elf stand. Instead he stood slowly and turned to the others.

"Are you out of your mind? He tried to kill us."

"It'll be fine Alistair. If you don't think so, you kill him."

Here Alistair baulked, looking at the elf who was still sitting on the ground rubbing his raw wrists, still with disbelief on his face.

"Um, no. Do what you think is best."

"Welcome aboard Zevran. Glad to have you with us."

A lascivious look came onto the elf's face as he reached to take Leiliana's offered hand.

"Ah, I wasn't aware that such loveliness existed among travelling companions."

Leiliana let her grip loosen and Zevran sunk back down to the ground.

"Or maybe not."

"Oh, a chase it is then."

"You cannot speak to her that way young man."

A butter wouldn't melt look came into his face, he looked up at Wynne and smiled.

"Of course not."

* * *

><p>Dain sat on the piece of wood in front of the fire, after finding Zevran they had circled back to the camping site. Oghren hadn't moved, but he acknowledged them with a tree rattling snore. Sten ignored them. Dain hadn't really spoken, he had simply put up his tent and sat before the fire. In truth it was two things, the mention of Howe, but also just the sound of that smooth Antivan accent. Both of these things brought home once more that he had lost everything.<p>

"Do you think that letting him, er tag along, was the best decision you've ever made?"

"Maybe not, but I can always kill him later."

"He might have killed you by then."

"Then he'll be your problem."

Dain got up and went to his tent, undoing his armour and gauntlets. It made him feel lighter and taller when he was done. But also felt wrong, not being enclosed in a carapace of metal. There were bruises on his knuckles and fingers from his anger, he knew that a few of his swollen fingers were broken. Now he would have to go back to the fire and ask for help. He frowned heavily, he swept the opening aside and looked for Wynne. Leiliana was leaning over the pot on the fire, Oghren was looking expectantly at her, no the nug who slept easily in the doorway of her tent.

"Oghren, where is Wynne?"

Though the dwarf's head turned towards him, his eyes stayed on the pink animal.

"I dunno."

Zevran left his tent, stretching heavily. He winked when he saw Dain, but kept moving to the fire, reaching out his hands out. Dain frowned but headed towards Morrigan's fire. She was watching him approach, her eyes shining back lit like a predators but she said nothing. Though he wore only leather pants and a loose shirt he still moved like he was clad in armour, his face set nearly perpetually in a frown.

"Could I ask a favour?"

"Your hands? Of course, nothing less for our fearless leader."

There was a curious stress on that word. His head tilted carefully as he listened.

"Are you going to sit?"

He did so, pushing his legs in front of him, knees bent. He looked over the flames at the witch as she rummaged in her own animal skin tent.

"They think that you have made a mistake. To be honest, I think it adds a certain new dynamic."

He didn't know, but his eyebrow quirked up.

"A mistake?"

"He did try to kill you…and Alistair. I wouldn't have minded so much if he'd managed to do the latter."

Dain didn't reply, his gaze on the fire as Morrigan opened the poultice and placed it on his hand.

"You'd think with this sort of damage you might have actually attacked something that might have shown a bit more than the trunk of a dying tree."

"And Oghren, was he a mistake?"

"All the dwarves that live under ground are mistakes."

Her hands glowed and the pain that he had shoved deep down dissipated and a few tense lines on his forehead lessened.

"Will you come to eat?"

He said, levering himself up even offering his hand. Morrigan laughed and took it.

"I don't think I want to miss anything."

* * *

><p>It ended with Morrigan nearly electrocuting Zevran. Oghren snorting his laughter so much he choked on his whiskey. She pulled the crackling energy back into her hands and swept towards her tent. Zevran turned to Alistair, who was near rolling on the ground tears leaking from his eyes. There was the glint of mirth in the elf's eyes, again he winked as he looked at Dain.<p>

"Now it's Denerim."

At his words Alistair immediately sobered, gaining his seat all his attention on Dain.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"We need to touch base there. You know that Brother Genitivi's quarters are there, Isolde gave us that information at least. We need more information if we are going to locate the Ashes. And we go via the Coastlands, we can see if Soldier's Keep is salvageable."

"You really believe that the merchant has found the way to the Keep?"

"I guess we'll see."

The rest of dinner was quiet. Dain didn't say any more, concentrating on only on his meal then refilling his bowl. Zevran took the cue from him and ate daintily and in silence. The only real sound was Oghren as he ate and took massive swigs from his clay jug. Finally Dain finished, he opened his hands and his bowl fell to the ground and moved to his tent, disappearing into it. Faces had followed him as he'd moved but no one had broken the sort of silence. Dain lay down on his sleeping mat, not bothering to pull up a blanket, though it was cooler, they had put enough distance between them and the freezing snows of the Frostback Mountains. He would never admit it, he barely could to himself let alone any of the others. But as he lay with his eyes firmly closed, arms even crossed angrily across his chest, lines of tears fell down from his eyes. And the hate for Howe seemed to grow and even curdle his soul.


	24. Chapter 24 Last Son

_I did manage to purchase the DA that did not synch with the RtO DLC, so I have made the King's Confidant and subsequent RtO chapters up by the seat of my pants, so to speak. I also wanted to shed some light for the other characters of Dain's issues._

* * *

><p><strong>Last Son<strong>

Dain found himself at the rear of the group. Normally he was at the front, setting the pace. But after letting the elven assassin Zevran live, even letting him join his motley group, he found himself unwilling to join in with the banter. It was helped along by two sparkling accents, Leiliana's laughing Orlesian and the elf's musical Antivan. It didn't make him smile like it seemed to make the others; regardless of what, mostly lewd, words he spoke. Instead Dain wanted to plug his ears; it ran curved nails down his back. Made the ghost of slain Oriana heavy in his arms. The laughter on her lips loud as she had seen him after so long. The tears he had felt on his neck wet when he had swooped to embrace her…Dain lifted his head, looking at the Circle tower, visible even out of sight of Calenhad. Nightmares of the hell he had faced in there occurred most nights, appearing in synch with the nightmares of the darkspawn. Ahead Wynne and Alistair had gone silent; they too thought on their experiences. But crackling over the top of the heavier silence, the sure fire laughter of Zevran. Dain turned his head a little, looking at the dark skinned elf. There was a shadow on this one too; perhaps everyone had one. But he seemed more balanced, perhaps his shadow was less like his own, like the taint that coursed through his veins.

Leiliana looked back over her shoulder, worrying about the silent one who roamed behind. His face had barely changed all day. The frown on his face was perhaps slightly lessened, but the crease between his brows was as heavy as always. But now instead of previously ignoring them, his eyes had settled on the elf that walked easily at her side. Until something ahead got his attention. She automatically slowed her steps, the others noticing. Dain kept his pace and walked through the group. He knew this place. He had ridden through it on his journey away from home and then had galloped through it on his way home. Unbidden the grinning image of Dairren shone before him, the blushing face of Iona. And then sprawled blood stained body of Lady Landra.

"These are Bann Loren's lands."

He said. Dain turned to look at the others behind him.

"Well, past the Lake and below the Coastlands, is the Bannorn. You…know this Dain."

Alistair said, there was worry in his voice. But did he truly think that he would forget that? Dain's brows lowered at the Warden.

"Is he alive?"

"I guess we assume that all the Banns are alive until we hear word closer to Denerim. Do you think that you could beg hospitality?"

Dain laughed, it wasn't funny. It was more painful.

"No. I doubt that he would want to see the man who failed to save his wife and son."

"What do you mean Dain?"

Wynne said, moving slightly closer. On her face was concern. Dain simply ran his fingers over his head, scratching hard before answering.

"At the castle, before Howe attacked, she had been visiting Mother. Her son too, Dairren. But we found her body, Dairren was gone. I know he was an only child."

Leiliana listened carefully; she didn't know the full story of Dain and he never spoke of it much. Alistair was wincing. He alone knew what Dain had gone through. Then he realised that Wynne wouldn't know who he was, not as the last son of Highever, not the cause of his hatred of Howe, however reasonable.

"What do you mean Warden? I did not think that Howe left Loghain's side let alone Denerim?"

Zevran said. His voice as quieter, as if not sure that he should he speaking up at all. Dain didn't seem to notice who had spoken, just the words. He didn't see those before him, instead he saw the castle again, the slaughter barely contained within its walls. A hand had risen and sat on his left shoulder, hovering over the old wound of a Howe fired arrow.

"Howe was my father's friend. It did not stop him from storming Highever and killing everyone. He just wanted father's title. I was to be in charge of the castle with him gone; you see Mother was going to stay with Landra. But they never left the castle grounds. So now Howe parades as Teryn of Highever while my parents' bodies rot in the servants exit, my brother's in the wilds."

Wynne's eyes had widened, a hand covering mouth. Perhaps now she understood.

"Highever! You are Lord Cousland! That was why the King knew you. I never…"

She made to curtsey, but Dain shot out a hand, pulling her up.

"I am no Lord Cousland, Wynne. I am a Grey Warden, we give up our last name."

"But Duncan didn't Conscript you, not like me."

Dain dropped Wynne's arm, looking at Alistair.

"My father promised Duncan I would become a recruit if he got me out. I said I would become a Warden if I could tell Cailan what happened."

That bitter scoff sounded again, the whole while Dain shaking his head.

"He promised to send his army north, to have Howe hung for this treason. But he is dead, Duncan is dead, Loghain is Regent and that _Howe_ has named the Couslands traitors."

There was silence. Whatever had been in their minds for Dain's origin had not been this. Dain simply turned away. He would not weep. He closed his eyes, but even though he thought he would be weak. That even just speaking of them he would break down; but there was nothing in his eyes. He still felt weak.

"Dain?"

"We do what must be done."

Dain said; he could still hear his father say that. It ended whatever Wynne or the others had been going to say.

* * *

><p>Dain felt cold. He rose from his seat near the fire and found himself pacing. After what Elric had said, being entrusted with the king's royal arms chest. And bar himself and Alistair, the only survivor at Ostagar who had known the depth of betrayal by Loghain.<p>

"I don't understand why Bann Loren's men would kill one so obviously Cailan's man?"

Wynne said. Dain looked at her,

"He is a minor Lord, he is well known and ill loved for the…flexibility of his allegiances."

"If the Teryn had been present, would he have been so mutable?"

Leiliana said innocently. Was it innocence? Dain frowned,

"The Teryn of Gwaren is Loghain. Is my father, even brother had been Teryn I doubt that Loren would have done anything of the sort."

A journey back to Ostagar could shed some light on what befell both Duncan and the King. Perhaps more, important papers, surely they would hold something of interest and potentially useful?

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Alistair said. Zevran giggled.

"I think I'm beginning to hate you."

"I'm thinking there is indeed merit to returning to Ostagar. But we still meet Levi and then head to Denerim."

"Avoiding Amaranthine."

Alistair said, mostly under his breath.


	25. Chapter 25 Soldier's Keep

_Sorry for the wait, long work hours and such got me a bit a stuck. Hopefully the rest of this arc should follow smoothly._

* * *

><p><strong>Soldier's Keep<strong>

The snow was deep, but at least they were out of the caves. Dain brought the fresh cold air into his lungs, savouring the smell. The keep seemed to nearly be buried deep in the snowdrifts, but as they walked, the huge stone gates rose massively high, and inside the rest of the keep and towers were bare of the white snow.

"It is very quiet."

"It's been abandoned since Sophia was Warden Commander and this place was besieged. And then the stories of ghosts, possessions and demons. I guess those kept any idea of wanting to come here nil, until I er...yes and you said you would honour Duncan's promise."

Levi was an interesting man, full of stories and also filled with the hope that Sophia his maligned relative was innocent of all charges King Arland had charged her. The wind was the only thing making noise, whistling through broken stones and soaring towers. As they passed through the gates even that sound stopped.

"It's pretty deserted."

"Not totally."

Dain said. He was crouching next to the skeletal remains of a man, his weapons still held in his hands. An old sword and a rigid shield.

"One of Arland's men?"

Dain tipped the broken skull back and drew free the pendant, holding it to show Alistair.

"No, a Warden."

Alistair's gasp was awed and hushed, Zevran rolling his eyes, he stood next to Levi. Dain slid the Oath back under the fraying shirt before standing.

"Morrigan, is the temperature here enough to have the bodies slow to decompose?"

The mage turned to look at the dead Warden, already half way up the stairs to the main hall.

"Normally I would say no, after so long even the hair is still apparent on that one. Animals would have scattered bones, unless…"

It wasn't only the mage who saw them. Glowing wisps of magic, circling around the courtyard, crackles of energy coming from the impossible things. Dain reached out to touch one, and instead the crackles coalesced into a memory. Not wardens, but Arland's army, executing an order. It faded slowly, everyone's eyes round in shock.

"I wasn't ready for that."

Alistair said, rubbing his eyes. Dain frowned, looking to Morrigan.

"Mass hallucination Dain? Not that was real, a real memory caught in the wisps of magic."

"How are they caught?"

"That is an interesting question."

Morrigan turned, taking one step up the stairs. A skeleton rose before her as if once again alive. Fire erupted out from her raised hands and she darted down the stairs closer to the others. All around them, the ruined bodies of long dead wardens and soldiers from Arland's army rose, rattling swords and shields, arrows fitted to crossbows.

"Again, seriously? I thought my quota for the undead was all used up."

Zevran sliced a bolt from the air,

"You've fought these things before?"

This time the zombies were better trained, even for being mostly skeletal and some years old, they still fought well and Dain and Alistair found the experience of fighting brother wardens disconcerting; even those that were dead. Levi ducked behind Zevran, the elf's blades defending not just himself but a merchant without any weapons or skill with them. It was short but ferocious fighting, when the skeletons were finally down the wisps of magical energy died away. But the in coming group was slow to put away their weapons.

"We should be ready for more of this inside the castle."

Morrigan said. Levi wiped his obvious sweat with his shirt, unable to take his eyes from the old ruined remains of allies and enemies alike.

"Then we'll be aware. Zevran, stay with Levi he's useless dead."

Levi blushed at the lascivious look the elf gave him.

"Aren't we all Dain? I am forever at your side."

Dain elbowed the elf as he moved past towards the stairs Morrigan had quickly vacated.

"You can continue your amorous pursuits after we figure out this castle. Provided he's willing I suppose."

Levi's blush was scorching, threatening to smoulder into a flame. The huge doors weren't locked, but rigid with time and age. Alistair and Dain leant their shoulders against the heavy wood and strained. Finally they moved, giving ground up only with a fight. Inside the magic gave up another memory. Sophia, wearing the heavy armour of the Warden Commander, spoke stirringly to her men. Dain moved closer, circling around the Wardens, fighting against the army of the country they had sworn to protect. It was pure suicide, but it still stirred him. And then the memory faded and they were alone in the small entry room of the keep.

"This lists the Wardens who survived in the Keep, then who died here."

Alistair recited the names.

"What are you thinking?"

Zevran asked Dain. Their Commander licked his lips slowly but answered,

"That having just one of them around would make this much easier."

"I don't know about that Warden, but having you and Alistair, as well as erm, the others, I think that we'll be alright."

Levi said; it wasn't directly spoken to Dain. As it was the merchant was rummaging around the corners of the room, hands steadily gathering dust and dirt.

"The others?"

Morrigan said scathingly, Zevran winked at her.

"Yes, us. Those of us whose names he cannot remember. But do not fear, I will make you remember mine."

A hand trailed along Levi's back as Zevran spoke the last sentence. Alistair snorted, still grinning when he met Dain's eyes. Levi stood quickly, not able to look Zevran in the face. Dain opened the door, registering immediately the stones on the far side of the room shimmering with growing heat. Alistair drew his sword in nearly the same instant.

"Demons…oh and a horror. Brilliant."

Alistair said. The demons were frozen quickly, though their rage demon heat wouldn't keep them that way for long. Dain shoulder charged one; it shattered, on his way to the horror. It had the same menacing skeletal grin that the sloth demon had possessed. It turned an eyeless face to him, clawed hands reaching for him. Zevran appeared, severing one arm before spinning and disappearing into the air. Dain found himself glad, once more, that he had spared the elf and that he was on their side. Parrying the arm Dain back slashed. It wasn't enough to have the horror dead, indeed it summoned a cage of telekinetic energy around him. And while he was held, he couldn't see but feel the effects of this crushing prison. Air and spittle was forced from his lungs at the pressure. But behind the leering and nearly spent horror Alistair loomed. It fell into bone dust and sparks of magic as the sword severed it's dry head. The prison was gone and Dain fell to his knees. He gathered his breath, spitting the blood from his bitten lip to the stones.

"Is Levi alive?"

He hoarsely said. Zevran moved into his field of vision, pretend hurt on his dark skinned face, a hand even placed above his heart.

"I am wounded, to the very core. Of course mi amor is alive and well. And you as well."

Dain heaved himself up, the anchor of Alistair's hand a help. Taking stock of himself and the others in a quick glance he looked to the next door.

"Right, let us carry on."

Levi watched the armoured man arise quickly and continue on his quest. He couldn't hide his scoff; Zevran heard it and winked,

"He can always surprise, yes?"

The merchant just nodded.

* * *

><p>"They summoned demons!"<p>

Levi had been repeating those three words like a mantra ever since that memory had coalesced around them, faded and then those same summoned demons had attacked them. This time the group was slower in rising, Morrigan healing a badly burnt Zevran and a broken armed Alistair.

"Demons!"

Levi said, looking finally at Dain. It had surprised him too, that even though he knew what it took for the Wardens, what it was taking for him in this blight…He wasn't sure if demons had truly been the right place to look for aide. And then the brutal betrayal; though as Dain thought, perhaps they should have expected it. But only he had known what depth demons could go too; especially after the Circle tower. He bent and picked up the staff. He could feel the coldness even through his thick gloves. There was the vibrating power of magic around it and there was no denying the interest that shone on Morrigan's face. He held it out to her,

"Can you use this?"

She reached excited hands out to it. Despite the frost that coated his gloves from it's freezing temperature, Morrigan held the staff with no obvious discomfort. As she moved it, sparkles of ice shone around it, there was no hiding the breath of winter the staff seemed to embody.

"I can. It will be useful if we find more of these rage demons."

And with that it was Morrigan's. Zevran stretched, checking the line of a tattoo that had nearly been marred by burn. But he looked relieved as he traced the design.

* * *

><p>The battle was brief, the dead scrambling to reach softer bodies over the two shields. Morrigan lifted her staff and they froze. It was with simple and economic movements that Alistair and Dain shattered their useless bodies. But they didn't sheath their weapons. Dain lifted a heavy armoured leg, thundering it into the locked door, it splintered and he climbed through the splinters and remnants. The smell of old and rotten death assailed his nostrils. A figure stood behind the desk; the source of the odour. No one spoke; Dain slowly sheathed his weapon and moved forward.<p>

"This one would speak with you."

Dain felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The figure turned; there was no doubting who it was. She was the one who had stood up to King Arland, and she who had caused the banishment of the Wardens. Sophia Dryden. But he'd seen the deadened eyes before, the menacing echo in the voice and the rot that was showing on her face.

"Would she? And the one manipulating her?"

"Is interested in her. Her memories are full of sights that would like to be seen. Would you listen to her, Warden Commander?"

"I realise I'm stating the obvious. But Levi, your great great grandmother is possessed."

Alistair said, but the merchant shook his head.

"No, my grandmother is dead."

Not-Sophia's head shifted slightly, her focus quickly on Levi before it shifted back to Dain.

"This one has a deal for you."

Dain merely inclined his head. Zevran couldn't help but grin; after everything he knew of Dain, could he be brutal enough to negotiate with demons? He caught the smirk that Morrigan gave as she watched the play before her.

"This keep has been a prison since this one made our deal. In memories far off places have tantalised us. But you have felt it, especially you mage, the rip in the veil of the Fade. We wish only to be free to travel the world, but in return we seal the rift."

"But there is more to this deal isn't there?"

Dain said, crossing his arms, giving nothing away even to this possessed body. A lip rose in a grotesque parody of a smile. Alistair winced, Levi turned fully away.

"For us to leave, you will need to destroy the mage tower. Smash and crush it to dust and brick!"

There was bright vehemence there, it interested Dain as did the name. The mage tower?

"You ask much demon, demand a lot from me for your freedom. Trust is involved, where there is none to be found."

There was no reply from the demon. Perhaps she saw through his words, perhaps she knew that he was lying.

"You seal the rift now, under the protection of me and my men, then I will enter the tower."

Those dead orbs seemed to study him, perhaps the demon had powers to see into his mind, into his heart.

"We…will do as you say. But the ritual takes time. Many will come through to stop us, your men must fight hard."

Dain nodded and the demon moved out from behind the desk. Behind her the wafting odour of rot and must. Alistair didn't look at Dain as he followed him, perhaps even he though that Dain would side with this demon; but even after the trials of the sloth demon?

The demon Sophia was right. The instant the ritual started rage demons dragged themselves from portals in the stone floor. Morrigan's magic, bolstered by the powerful staff turned the room into a blizzard. Rushing forward Dain and Alistair, exhaling roils of white steam, struck the demons. Weakening and cooling talons raking at shields. But the spell had done its work and the demons fell below their weapons. While snow lay in banks around the room the flying snow dissipated and the demon moved to the next spell circle. Morrigan was forced to heal the other three after every circle was sealed. Blood spat from Zevran's lips after a powerful strike to his chest by an ash wraith. Alistair moved sluggishly and confused from the massive contact with the thick stone walls, sent there by the leap ability of another. Dain hadn't been able to defend the strong whirlwind attack, brutal physical thuds had sent him to the ground. The demon had watched them with no emotion, merely waiting for Morrigan to heal before moving to the final circle.

"Here she comes, she is powerful and will be difficult to harm."

It was right. From the murky edges of the tear, a humanoid figure appeared. Purple flames arose from the pointed skull. But though golden demon eyes watched those before it, the body was purely female. Until clawed and deformed hands rose to caress pierced breasts, a segmented tail coiling behind.

"Desire demon, be weary!"

Morrigan spoke, instantly challenging the demon. Genuine laughter rose, stained lips parting to issue that sound. Dain ground his teeth, trying to unhear that sound. Twisted horns rose from her forehead, golden jewellery sparkled even against her pale lilac skin. Dain powered his legs into a run, leading with his shield he battered at the malformed demon. The laughter stopped. But those hands gripped the shield, moving it so he looked into the demon's eyes. He tried to wrest it free, but those lips curved once more. The ripple of energy she gave him had him not only ground into the floor, but flung away from her. He lifted his dizzy head, finding four demon's in his vision not the original one. Morrigan knelt next to him, her blue healing glow dull.

"She's nullified any healing. You're going to have to end this quickly."

Dain stumbled to his feet. Morrigan lifted her staff, her own scary grin on her lips. Dain leapt into another run, the bolt of freezing energy released from the cold staff shone past him heading for the desire demon.


	26. Chapter 26 Diabolical Concoctions

_Sorry for the rather short chapter. But there is a Zombie show on TV and it looks pretty awesome. So please forgive me, but ZOMBIES! Peace out._

_Oh, PS- Sophia totally deserved it._

* * *

><p><strong>The Diabolical Concoction<strong>

Dain sat on the ground next to the rapidly decomposing demon. Her eyes were still open, but even he could see their opaque quality; the fogginess a hallmark of death. Moisture from thawing frost ran down her horns, dripping sullenly to the stones, scorched and battered by the battle here. The ritual was over but the vibration of magic and the glow of power still coloured the room. Alistair and Zevran were still pulling in breath, though Zevran was well enough. Reciting all the physical perfection of the demon, minus the actual being a demon. Dain rubbed at his eyes hard, standing as he saw the demon Sophia move.

"We have done our part Warden. Destroy the mage tower."

Dain looked at the others, slower to rise, though Morrigan was looking at him the staff in her hand. He nodded.

"You have."

Perhaps she thought him slow. If she had been able to watch as he had fought she would know this false. Perhaps she thought that he had forgotten the sword in his hand, or was moving to sheath it. He did none of these things. It moved like an extension of his body; he saw the look in her eyes just before the sword passed through her neck. Hatred. Realisation and utter fury. But it died as the body finally did. As the demon did. She stood utterly still, until Dain lifted that sword once more and pressed the tip nearly gently against the chest plate. At the movement her head shifted and fell back. Thick sludge oozed from the stump, spattering as the body still encased in the commander's army fell back upon it. Alistair's eyes were round. Zevran grinned, so he would deal with demons, but not to the end they believed.

"We investigate this mage tower. Then we strip the body from the armour."

Alistair nodded, Zevran already falling in step with Dain. Morrigan looked at the ruined body and shrugged, following after.

* * *

><p>The bridge had been guarded once more by few undead Wardens. It was Morrigan who destroyed them, dancing through the field of spring traps, at once burning, electrifying and freezing their bodies. The others walked through the remains of the one sided battle, only Zevran complimenting the witch on her prowess.<p>

"Ah so now we have such devastating abilities to match that very much devious mind, my dear. Why is it we have not made love as of yet?"

Morrigan turned only very barely to look at the elf strutting at her side. Her look alone would have withered Alistair into a deep depression. To Zevran it was water off a ducks back. Dain half turned back, Alistair getting his attention.

"For what purpose? I would sooner stab you in the face than let you touch me, elf."

Both Dain and Alistair both winced. Zevran, amazingly just looked thoughtful.

"And somehow, that makes the idea even more interesting…"

"And I find the whole notion disturbing. Do you think he's serious?"

Alistair whispered, turning away quickly before Morrigan noticed his gaze. Dain snorted,

"Oh I believe he is."

Perhaps Morrigan was still thinking on the quick fire conversation, instead of simply letting Dain open it, as he had been about to do, she just lifted a hand and let a loose bolt of energy strike it. It imploded sending sharp burning stakes of wood flying.

"This is ridiculous, Zevran if you are going to send the witch into a fury, at least do it where there are fewer potential death darts at hand. Oh and make sure you have a much better audience, there are others who would love to see it."

Alistair said. Zevran laughed.

It was a study. Books, though some lay now on the ground, would have once lined the shelves. A huge carved desk dominated a wall, open still upon it a heavy grimoire. It was first spied by Morrigan, but Dain intercepted her and leant over the desk. It was hard to decipher, time and a spiky hand hard to read. And then it was the information inside that became hard to fathom.

"What is it? Your face…are you in pain?"

Morrigan said, sliding slickly forward. Dain didn't answer. A new type of blood magic…drawn from the blood of Wardens. He couldn't help but dart a gaze to Alistair. Could he even think upon killing a brother warden for the potential of something more unleashed in the taint he too carried? The glass stoppered bottle was still held in the wooden cradle on the edge of the desk. Inside now Dain knew was the realisation of this Avernus' research. Dain reached out to hold the bottle. The liquid inside was thick, the viscous quality of blood, though this was not the red of arterial spray nor the sluggish run of dark red. It was darker than that, nearly black for a sickly tinge of green. Could he take advantage of this terrible study, drawn from the bodies of others like Alistair, like Duncan?

"What is that?"

He offered it to Morrigan; she quickly scouted the pages, fingers impatiently flicking the parchment over, the globe filled with liquid rolled ceaselessly in her hands.

"A blood mage? Could this change the taint in your blood Dain?"

He shrugged,

"All signs point to that, but I wonder why Avernus did not drink?"

"Will you?"

She said. She pressed her face into his, her hands lifted; she seemed to be offering it to him. Could he? What if it could be the thing that made a difference in the future? Would it be a waste for those who had died for this? Sweat appeared on Dain's forehead, but if Morrigan noticed it she said nothing, merely holding the blood out to him. His hands rose, as if of their own volition; it sat perfectly in his palm. He tossed the cork; it didn't smell like the blood had at the Joining. There was the metallic scent of blood, but there was more. It was heavy, when he rolled it around the sides of the bottle it clung, leaving a sediment on the slick surface.

"Um Dain? What are you doing?"

"I haven't come across situations, what dark inner sanctums and undead and all. But it seems that finding strange vials filled with no doubt noxious liquid and then looking like you are going to ingest it, does not seem to be the smart thing to do."

"Quiet elf. This does not concern you. Dain. Will you drink?"

He couldn't let it go to waste. This way he could protect them better. Do what must be done. He was swift. Swifter than any motion the two further away could make. He tossed his head back, sucking at the neck of the vial, ignoring this gorge rising, forcing his throat work. It felt heavy, it was hard to swallow. He dropped the vial to the table, it rolled a bare trace of what it had carried inside now. It made his mouth sticky, his tongue numb. When he looked up at Morrigan he could see that there was surprise on her face. So she never thought that he would. His knees buckled, it was Alistair at his side. Perhaps he would understand.

"It's okay Dain. We'll wait till you feel better."

He couldn't speak but he nodded. Then the fire began. It pooled in his belly, bare coals, then glowing embers that burst into flame. And in a single instant it spewed into his veins. Muscles tensed, his jaw clacked shut. Dain forced air in and out of his mouth, only a small amount; it cooled his throat and lungs somewhat.

"So you all do this often then?"

Zevran said, but his voice was scathing, the Warden had gone from ruthless and something to be admired to an utter fool. But even as he looked at the man he wondered. He strode to the table, quickly flicking though the book that both Dain and Morrigan had pored over.

"Morrigan, if he…"

"Honestly Alistair, you think that he would die here? He will be fine. Like you said, we will move when he opens his eyes."

Morrigan moved into a kneel, resting her hand on Dain's perspiring forehead, closing her eyes.


	27. Chapter 27 The Eldest Warden

**The Eldest Warden**

Dain sat up, automatically running a hand over his face. It came away dry. He opened his eyes and looked up, hooking an elbow over a bent knee. Morrigan turned her head; she stood leaning against a wall. She didn't greet him or even speak, content to look at him.

"Glad to see you're awake. Though I think that right now we promise each other not to drink any thing, blood or creepy liquid of any kind, that we find in a dark, undead infested tower room…Or lets just not drink anything, ever again."

Alistair said, even as he offered a hand. It was strange, after that terrible taste and the burning effect of that stuff, there was no remaining hurt or even strain in his muscles. He stretched, swinging his arms but nothing. Perhaps he was wrong after all, Avernus, all his terrible work for naught. Dain pushed it aside to think on later. There was still more to explore, this Warden mage to find. He gathered the others with a look and moved to the heavy door.

* * *

><p>"I ask that you do not interrupt me more than you have already."<p>

The voice was strong, interesting when they saw the body it issued from. The mage turned; echoes to the younger man in the magical memories they had seen.

"Avernus."

Dain said. The man moved closer, tilting his head as he looked at those who had entered this, his inner sanctum.

"Wardens. I suppose only more like myself could have killed her. The one that possessed the greatest of us all."

He strode forward, pausing slightly on the stairs, as if enjoying the attention, he must have been alone for many years. Alistair was simply astounded at his age,

"If you're a Warden, how are you so old?"

"He is a blood mage Alistair, he consorts with demons. This would serve to elongate life."

Morrigan said, Avernus dipped his head at her in recognition of her words. He turned his head and looked at Dain, a small knowing smile on his lips.

"That and my research to unlock the promise within our unrefined tainted blood. To be truthful, I did not think that anyone would get up the courage to take in that potion. I assume that you know how I concocted that?"

"I read the book, your notes."

"Hmm. Can you feel it? The power unlocked in your blood."

Dain said nothing, not wishing to look at Avernus but loathe to break eye contact.

"So you agreed my research was justified, no more than that, was necessary."

Alistair was quicker,

"Necessary! Relieving yourself after an eight hour ride is necessary. There is no excuse that you can offer up mage, for conjuring demons."

Avernus just smiled that small smile again.

"I believe my fellow mage here will beg to differ. My dear?"

"He has a point. If a single spell could win that battle…"

Morrigan turned her head to fasten those bright golden eyes on Dain as she finished,

"…I would not question the source."

"You call her the greatest, yet she allowed this? Your mind is gone."

Levi sputtered, holding his head. Avernus narrowed his eyes, but it was Zevran who moved in front of the merchant.

"Avernus, tell me of the rebellion."

Dain said, drawing Avernus' attention from Dryden's descendant.

"I thought I knew you boy, when you strode up all righteous. A Cousland then? Sophia sought the Teryn's aide, but those damned politicians betrayed us. It was over before it began. The Teryn was executed – I saw his head on the table, even an apple in his mouth."

Dain's jaw clenched.

"I am no longer a Cousland Avernus. I am…The Warden Commander. And yes I drank that damned draught, but even I know limits. Whatever reasons you give, the research was far past dangerous and ignoring your blood mage abilities, there was never any moral ground here."

"So you wish for me to submit to judgment then? I will not give up so much that I have learnt. Let me be and I will continue, ethically, and give you anything I uncover."

Dain shook his head, but there was no menacing move, or any movement, on his part.

"I will not kill you Avernus, but there will be no more research."

"But…"

"No!"

Dain suddenly shouted. Anger, simmering as Avernus offered him more of this terrible research, flared. Morrigan flinched at the volume and depth of fury in that single word.

"I do not care that you are a blood mage Avernus. I care that you were a Warden, and you performed such atrocities upon your brothers. I cannot ever fathom this. I did not drink that potion because I believed it justified, necessary, what ever. I drank it because I realised that it could help me in finishing it, that I will take the harm from it, not my brothers. While their lives will not be in vain for what now is part of my new taint, no more shall be learnt in this tower Avernus, not by you."

Realisation dawned on Avernus' face, now he seemed just like an old man. One without much time left.

"You are hereby cast from the Wardens. Let none of the Grey give you aide or succour. Be gone Avernus, the order is rid of you."

"So, exile it is. It would have been kinder to kill me. Commander."

"I know."

Dain whispered, the now broken shell of the mage moved bent and cragged past them, disappearing from the room. He turned to Levi who was still shaking his head,

"I am sorry Levi. I learnt more of my family than you did of yours."

But the merchant shook his head,

"I learnt somethings here Warden, that I wish I hadn't."

Dain lifted his gauntleted hand and rested it upon Levi's drooping shoulder,

"I cannot say Levi, whether Sophia was a hero, but you. You are an honourable man."

A flush darkened his cheeks,

"Oh. Oh, thank you."

Zevran vaulted up the braced balustrade to Avernus' desk, fingers dancing among the papers, kneeling finally to unlock a chest.

* * *

><p>It was a slow walk back to the rotting carcass of Sophia.<p>

"What will you do now Levi?"

The merchant looked around the room, thoughtfully rubbing a jaw.

"Well, with a bit of work this place would do wonders as a base. With bandits and such on the roads, I think this place could keep them at bay. Providing I have the Warden's blessing and all?"

"I think it's a good idea Levi, especially with the discount."

Levi laughed, the first time any had since entering the haunted keep.

"I'll give you the very best. Perhaps I could get my brother Mikhail to move here. He is a blacksmith, the finest. He could supply you with the very best arms physically possible."

"Then I welcome you to Soldier's Keep."

Levi grinned. Until Dain knelt, reaching to undo the buckles of the Warden Commander armour.

"He was actually serious about that."

Zevran said, moving to stand very close to Levi.

"No matter. I have a feeling that I will see worse. Oh Levi, amor, I believe that now the keep is safe, I will continue our pursuit. Though am somewhat tired of hunting…Care to shorten the chase?"


	28. Chapter 28 Denerim

_Must thank the writers of DA for the lines towards the end. Soon as I saw them I wanted to utilise them. So they are not mine (though wish they were). Big day at work, so a bit of filler (sozza) but it is fun to write. Peace._

* * *

><p><strong>Denerim and (that) Pearl<strong>

Sten was furious; even the report from Zevran of who these 'giants' were had made the Qunari's teeth grind. A hand on his arm, not physically restraining in force, but perhaps a warning, or a show of companionship, from Dain. It arrested any move the Qunari may have been about to make, even at the ordinary enough words. After a precious few deep sentences Dain nodded to the Qunari, Sten only slightly relaxing.

"Leiliana and Zevran will come with Sten and I, you others keep on towards Denerim, await us outside the walls."

With a meaningful nod to Alistair, who nodded. Sheparding the others with him they were soon gone. Leiliana skipped to move next to Dain, Zevran content to amble nearby while Sten strode angrily leading the group.

"Who are they? He seems, angry? No, angrier."

Dain shrugged, he didn't know. But all he knew was that Sten needed this, and though he wouldn't tell anyone, Dain felt like a fight. After meeting the others after their trek to Soldier's Keep, Dain had found himself on edge, more so than usual. Finally he understood, he wanted a purely physical fight, no magic, no supernatural foe. Just flesh and blood. He rolled his shoulders in eagerness, fingers clenching and unclenching.

* * *

><p>Sten was furious, something about these 'renegade' Qunari had infuriated the Qun and while it hadn't made him reckless; having the others standing with him made it a fairer fight. It was just as well he was at Sten's side; he ducked under the ferocious swing of the great sword and traded thundering blows with the roaring enemy. He took a bruising shock to his neck and shoulder as he defended a weighty strike, but the attacker was cut down by Sten looming behind him using his massive sword as a battering axe. Every so often the singing whine of a swift arrow punctuated the thuds and crunching swords. Zevran flittered in and out of sight, no match in physicality for these Qun sized opposition, but took down one on his own with poisoned blades and swift deadly attacks. Dain threw up his shield, finally forced to brace his sword armbehind it against the utterly blunt attack. He dropped the defence too early, a huge fist shot out, grabbing him around his throat. Dain dropped his weapons, ignoring the pressure, the pain and the fact that the Qun was nearly lifting him in full armour off the ground. With progressively heavier hands he dipped to his dagger, sliding it free. It was awkward, but twisting, ignoring the edge of the armour digging into the inside of his arm, he took the hilt in both hands and lifted the sharp weapon. It caught the man under his chin, it slid through the skin and tongue, soft palate and with a crunch and some resistance it entered the brain. Blood erupted from the dead warrior's mouth, drenching Dain. He took the landing hard, losing the slippery grip on the blood soaked hilt. But it was done, Sten turning from the battered body before him, Zevran's enemy falling to debatably the dozen or so poisoned strikes or the four arrows studding neck, armpit or between armour plates in the torso.<p>

The light shower of rain was cool on his face; he hadn't noticed when it had started, but Dain leant his head back and opened his mouth. Blood turning pink and dripping from his cheeks. It was cold, and right now that was the only thing he could feel. The first swallow was metallic, but those after tasted only like the rain. It felt good pattering on his neck, even sliding under the armour. After taking in several mouthfuls Dain got to his feet, moving for his weapons, wiping them on the dead's clothing. The sword slid cleanly into the sheath, but the blood was stubborn on the shield face, the dents gathering the blood easier than releasing it. Dain held his hands out, letting the rain wet his gloves. He wiped his face before looking at the others. Zevran was grinning, happily rifling through armour and tents further afield. Leiliana was trying to coax Sten into telling her who these had been and their quick unprovoked attack. It wasn't working. Dain knelt next to Zevran, the elf fiddling with the lock on a large heavy chest. With a cocky grin he twisted a wrist, but instead of the lock popping open there was a crunch. Zevran's face fell; it fell even more when he withdrew a lock pick, the tip sheared off.

"Honestly, less speed more haste."

Leiliana settled in between them, her two steel picks already in her hands. It took a few bare seconds,

"Braska. But it's not a contest."

Dain stood, offering his hand to Leiliana who took it, arising like a noble lady from a curtsey.

"It's always a contest."

They said in unison, Leiliana lifted a foot and lifted the lid.

"We will never speak of this, yes?"

* * *

><p>Everyone was damp. But outside the massive walls of Denerim they had waited, relief obvious on the faces of some. Alistair grinned happily and moved to greet them,<p>

"Nearly dusk, was a bit worried about camping here."

Dain smiled, taking the wrist the other Warden offered.

"Not here, not with the rain. Though it was never the plan."

His words were slightly rough, around his neck the red marks were turning to purple finger marks.

"You have a plan young man?"

Wynne said, a cloak already wrapped around her. The eyebrow she lifted at his slow to answer, nearly as sharp as a retort from Morrigan.

"Of course Wynne. We enter Denerim. It has been several years since I have been inside her gates, but if memory serves there is…"

His words ambled off and died.

"What, we just trot on up to the nearest Inn, no doubt watched by Loghain or Howe and kip there for the night?"

Even in that jest something shifted in response to those names. Wynne met his eyes with her own steely gaze.

"Actually no. We break into three groups and meet somewhere else. Slightly less conspicuous, and with a few quick words and some silvers we will be left alone."

A scoff ended the stand off, Wynne's head turned slowly, pinioning Zevran. It didn't worry the dark skinned elf for a second.

"Ah, you do not reference the beautiful Pearl and her proprietor the lovely Sanga, perchance?"

Though Dain tried to still the red blush, at Zevran's tone of voice and tilt of the hip it coloured his cheeks.

"What? A, a, _brothel_?"

Alistair managed to whisper. Dain nodded,

"Yes Alistair. I have no problem with others sampling the wares, but we are ultimately here for Genitivi, supplies and information. Lifting your head could have it cut off. Yes Zevran, both of them."

The laugh was nothing short of a gasp and a feminine giggle, Zevran managed to clamp his hands over his mouth. But it was out. Alistair's eyebrows had been lifted so high they were nearly in his hair line. Leiliana laughed, buckling at the waist and clutching at Alistair's arm. Even Wynne had a smile.

"Well call me greased nug, the lad does have a sense of humour. Let's move it though, this rain isn't fooling anyone, and I need a drink."

"He actually ran out?"

* * *

><p>Dain dropped his shoulder, the cloak falling to cover his armour, shield and weapon. Behind him Leiliana was already wrapped in it, but there was no hiding her female shape. Zevran sauntered with her, a cloak also covering his weapons. Alistair had gone with Oghren and Morrigan, much to his irritation. Sten had loomed behind Wynne, strangely enough the elderly mage knew exactly where the Pearl was. As she had walked off, the massive shadow of the Qunari behind her, there had been an awkward silence. With quick words Alistair had offered he too knew where it was; he had been followed by mocking laughter from Zevran. Dain had hushed them all and waited for the others to be lost to sight before moving towards the Market place.<p>

It wasn't empty, the light mist of rain not stopping shoppers, nor the slowly darkening sky. One cluster of guards stood clumped together near a gated arch, but didn't look around at the market place nor the three newcomers. Dain moved in slowly, watching others, Leiliana and Zevran flanking him. They garnered some looks, a tall man, obviously a fighter, the slim red headed beauty and the handsome elvish man. A few men, ejected from a tavern, leant heavily against a wall. But as the three moved past managed to stagger upright and hamper their progress. Their clothing was well made, though did show up ale stains. Blood shot eyes showed courage shored up by ale and spirits. But their leader strode up to Dain, that known and certain look in his eye. He didn't manag to speak, Dain took half a step forward.

"Tis brave of you, sir, to so openly cast an envious eye towards me and mine. I suggest that you look elsewhere, lest I consider removing your sight in a more, permanent fashion."

Though his words were still offered with that Free Marches lilt, there was something more polished about them, Dain even offered them with a straighter, more noble posture, disregarding the more blatant weapon still hidden under his cloak. With these brusque words the man stumbled in his speech. He didn't move but looked, impressed, at Dain. Who waited a few more seconds, then shifted his weight forward. The man veritably scuttled away, his friends disappeared as quickly. Zevran and Leiliana watched silently, yes they had known of Dain and noblest of bloods, but here he had assumed it again so quickly. Was it so easy to pick up and discard? Dain turned to look at them, that glint of nobility was gone now and there was the Warden they knew.

"Care to lead the way Zev?"

With a bright white grin Zevran swaggered into the lead. Leiliana slid to twine her arm into Dain's, surprisingly he let her; she grinned.

"You called him Zev."


	29. Chapter 29 Fakes, sisters and brothers

_Been a while 'tween updates. I find that work, illness and assignments seem to get in the way of my fun times. Crazy. R&R!_

* * *

><p><strong>Fakes, Sisters and Brothers<strong>

"You got into the palace district?"

Leiliana grinned happily, basking in the attention of the astonished Alistair. The room was cramped, only Sten and Oghren were not present, the latter presently soaking up the ale on the ground floor of the brothel. Morrigan sat regally on a table, Wynne had the only chair. Zevran, Leiliana and Alistair on the bed while Dain paced in a very small area.

"I did. No one is looking for a defenceless female such as my self. I went to Andraste's birth rock and then returned. The only time I was looked at, was when I was…looked at."

She giggled.

"Defenceless? They looked at you!"

Leiliana punched Alistair on the arm and he coughed to cover the squeal his indignation had given his voice.

"Wynne, you and Sten get your supplies?"

The mage nodded, gesturing to the packs pressed into the corner of the room.

"We did. And I assume that you four had a grand time rousing up the cut throats and pick pockets at the whim of Sergeant Kylon?"

"Yes, we of course we did. All done using our own cut throat and pick pockets in direct opposition."

Alistair said grinning.

"The Sergeant is probably the only one in the whole of Denerim who doesn't believe Loghain and the slander about the Wardens. Plus we got paid. It helped you make your purchases. But that means that all remains is to pick up the repairs from Wade and Gorim, and drop in on Genitivi."

Alistair darted Dain a look, a quick nod was all the affirmation the man needed and he dropped his gaze.

"Zevran and Leiliana can accomplish the first, with Sten. I believe Oghren will probably be comatose by now. Wynne, care to join Alistair and I to Genitivi's house?"

"And I suppose I am invisible?"

Morrigan said, no moving from the table. Dain dipped to his belt and tossed a draw string bag at her. She caught it, the sound of coins clanking against each other evident.

"I suggest you browse the wares in the Wonders of Thedas, might help you decipher that black tome you insist on dragging with you."

* * *

><p>No one responded to Dain's heavy knocking. Instead of looking to the others for ideas, Dain tried the door. It was unlocked and nearly eager to swing open. The rooms were lined in books, artefacts pushed into the gaps between. A man appeared, coming from what seemed to the kitchen. He was young, younger than what Dain had thought, but he strode forward, not guarded.<p>

"Brother Genitivi, I presume?"

The man flinched, not taking the hand he offered. Dain dropped it.

"No, no. I am Weylon, Genitivi's assistant."

"My mistake. Is your master not here then?"

There was a noticeable shuffling of feet and awkwardness before the man answered. Dain gestured a little at his side, close to his leg. A fidget to Weylon, but not to Alistair. He moved back and studied the books, looking around the room. Weylon watched the man before at a movement from Dain darted his attention back to him.

"Yes? No?"

"He is missing. He found some information and left, a long time ago. Excited about it."

Again Weylon's eyes shifted to follow Alistair as he moved down the long main room.

"Research on the Sacred Urn?"

"Um, yes. How did you know that?"

Dain simply made a hand gesture, rendering the acquisition of that irrelevant.

"Where did he go? Did he say?"

"An inn, off Lake Calenhad. But I shouldn't say anymore. There has not been a word from him for weeks. I couldn't take it if something happened to those I sent after him."

Alistair neared a door towards the end of the room, his face wrinkling at something. Weylon saw the movement and made to head towards the ex templar.

"No you mustn't go down there!"

Dain caught his arm arresting the man's movement, but releasing him when Weylon looked at him.

"Why?"

"Its, its Genitivi's office, I must keep it tidy for him."

"I'm sure Alistair will be careful. We must know where Genitivi went, tis a case of life and death."

"Um Dain, something fishy behind here. Well, not fishy exactly, but you know…it smells."

"I said don't touch that door!"

Wynne managed a gasp as Weylon lifted his hands and fire erupted from his palms. Alistair took a single stride and grabbed the edge of the table. He barely managed to flip it up before the fire balls struck the heavy wood surface. Dain slid his shield onto his arm holding it before him as Weylon turned to him. Despite the grin Weylon wore, he was apparently reckless. Though his hands erupted into flame, the balls never formed and instead it was as if a back draft roared. The man exploded into flame, a single scream sounded from the centre of the conflagration before the man breathed in pure flames and he fell to the ground. The flames died out quickly, Wynne moving to step on a few.

"Poor boy."

"Oh yes, poor boy. I'm alright though, by the way. If you care."

Alistair said, appearing from behind the table. He lifted a hand, gingerly tapping his hair as if testing for burn. Dain simply nudged the body out of the way and moved down to the door that had seemed so important. Then he smelt it. Rot. Behind the door the slow lazy hum of flies. He looked at Alistair the man already wincing.

"Yeah, I thought so. After you."

"Thanks."

Trying the door, it seems that whatever Weylon wanted to hide was behind this door and worth locking. It didn't stand up to the quick jolting shoulder barge. Dain swallowed hard, sluggish flies roused by the sudden movement bumped into his chest and face. He waved them away, only succeeding in wafting the vomit inducing smell to his nose.

"I was right. Yay for me."

Alistair said, a hand clamped hard over his nose and mouth. Wynne strode in and just as quickly reeled back, stumbling. Dain caught her and set her right.

"Dear Maker. What did he do?"

Breathing unhappily through his mouth Dain moved further into the room, finally at the end of an unmade bed the source of the stench. It was barely recognisable as human. Maggots roiled in the pulpy remains of flesh, flies too gorged to take off buzzed angrily at the intrusion.

"I think, think, this was the real Weylon."

Dain turned away from the remains, instead looking for any sort of information. Alistair found it first, tossing the small bound journal at him. He caught it and flicked through the thick pages,

"It talks about his research, but it points to a village…Haven. The other end of Calenhad further west from Redcliffe."

"Good great. Now that we know this, can we go?"

Wynne said from her station by the door, a hopeful look on her face.

* * *

><p>"Wynne, if you want to go back to the 'wonders' just say."<p>

Alistair said. Wynne smiled,

"Very well. I wish to go back to the Wonders of Thedas, I started reading a very interesting paper before Sten started to go on about the mages back in Par Vollen."

"Can you go there and go back to the pearl without getting in trouble?"

"I will try my oh so very hardest young man."

She said patting his arm before moving away from them, circumventing the foul mouthed noble girl and her maid. Dain fell into step with Alistair, the warden's steps getting slower and slower the closer he got to his sister's home.

"Um. I don't know if this is a good idea. I mean, she doesn't know who I am, even know I exist. A sister, sister. Sister. No come on lets just go. Lets go."

"This way."

Dain grabbed Alistair's wrist before he could take off, with his free hand he knocked on the door. The faint call of entry came snaking through the door. Dain opened the door and all but shoved Alistair through it.

The house was gloomy, really only lit by the fire and a few candles dotted around the sparse interior. A woman with the same coloured hair as Alistair spoke without looking up from the pile of material on the table.

"I can do your laundry for you, two bits a bundle. And don't trust that foreign woman, she can't do it cheaper and…"

"Excuse me, are you Goldanna?"

She looked up. Life didn't seem to have been kind to her, there were frown lines hard around her mouth, but she came closer.

"Aye, that's me. How do you know my name?"

Alistair ummed and ahhed, scratching his chin hard before a quick nudge had him coughing out his words.

"I am Alistair. I guess, I am your brother."

She didn't scream. She didn't cry. There was no weeping, gnashing of teeth, nor did she run to hug him. Dain didn't know quite what she should do, but he thought there would be more.

"I knew it!"

"I'm sorry?"

"Those guards thought they could fob me off with some silvers. But I knew. Knew there was a babe. You killed mother."

Alistair looked nothing short of shocked. He looked at Goldanna; Dain knew that the illusion of what he had built in his mind was shattering into pieces.

"Alistair was a child, a baby that is hardy his fault."

Those narrowed and angry eyes turned to him.

"And you? Who are you? Some sort of servant for his high and mighty over there?"

"No. He is Grey Warden, like myself. Why are you doing this?"

"Oh a Grey Warden is it, come to lord it over me then."

"Goldanna, Alistair came here looking for his family."

"Well he found me. What do you think?"

Alistair's mouth fell open but nothing came out. Dain could only think of one thing to do. He grabbed the pouch, a few sovereigns within, he tossed it to her and turned to Alistair.

"Let's leave. Now."

Alistair nodded woodenly, nearly throwing himself out into the sunlight, raking his hands through his hair.

"What was I thinking? How could I have thought that everything would be fine?"

"Because it was what you wanted."

"But, how?"

"Everyone is out for themselves Alistair. You should learn that."

The glow in Alistair's eyes threatened to die. Did he mean that truly? Dain turned, but dragged Alistair with him, throwing his arm around the man's shoulders.

"You don't need her. You have others who care about you. Brother."


	30. Chapter 30 Morrigan's Quest

**Morrigan's Quest**

"Dain, may I speak with you?"

Her voice loomed out of the darkness. But when he lifted his head from his stare into the flames of the fire, her eyes caught and reflected the light like a wolf's. He nodded and levered himself to his feet. The night smelt clean and green; the rain had cleaned it and if felt fresher and calmer than it had in the stifling walls of Denerim. Morrigan paced in front of her fire, her hands twining together in a gesture of anxiety he had never seen in the witch. To the side of the blankets and padding that made up her bed was the black book he had seen barely leave her hands. Then he remembered, it had been in the First Enchanters rooms. When he'd seen it, something in the cover, the leafless tree had made him think of Morrigan. He swapped it for the witch as he sat.

"Yes, I thought it was mother's grimoire. But while it is not her real tome…"

The gaze of Morrigan seemed reticent to leave the book; though it was obvious she eyed it with distrust.

"Did you learn from it?"

She nodded, reaching for the fire to heat her hands.

"Yes, I did."

"And yet you are…disquieted?"

It brought laughter to her lips, but it was tinged with? Yes, it was fear.

"Yes, I believe I am. I had hoped to learn powers that even my mother would not teach me. And so I did."

There was something more, but the words were not quick to follow. Dain simply looked at the woman. For all the time he had known her; the fear of the underground she had smothered beneath a veneer of loathing in Orzammar, this was something else.

"I never knew how mother was able to extend her life span so long. There are stories of many witches of the Wilds, but in all my time I have never met another. That is the secret I found with the book's pages."

"And she does what? Like Avernus, blood mage, demons?"

"You are not far away from the truth Dain."

She shifted closer to him, moving quickly to sit, drawing her legs close. She didn't speak instead leaning closer to him. Dain straightened his back, turning his gaze around the clearing. But none of the others showed any sign of alarm. He looked at her; her teeth gnawing on a lip before she spoke.

"As she grows old, she raises a daughter. Before the current body grows old and weak and then dies, she takes over the younger one."

It wasn't impossible, after everything Dain had seen and experienced, but he still couldn't help the next question.

"Are you sure?"

"There is nothing else the book could mean. I am to be her sacrifice. But I will not step aside. I need her real grimoire. I need you."

"But she sent you with me. While would she risk you by doing that?"

"If the _vessel_ is well versed in magic, it seems the transition for her would go that much easily. Perhaps even she would not survive if the arch demon does."

"And the aide you ask for?"

A small smile graced her lips before she whispered the words to the fire.

"I need you to kill Flemeth."

Kill the Witch of the Wilds. It was a simple premise, but such a stand off would never be that.

"I would not be able to be present, lest my mother take the opportunity to, take over."

"She saved Alistair and I after Ostagar."

"I am aware of this."

It was the first time that Morrigan had seemed truly vulnerable. The first time she asked for his help. However he felt about it, he needed Morrigan. He knew this. A mage with her abilities up his sleeve; he didn't care if she was an apostate.

"I will do what I can. There has been no news of Dalish in the Southron Hills, we'll bypass Lothering. Before we move for Redcliffe or the Docks, I will take some others and we will go to the Wilds."

Morrigan simply nodded, shivering slightly. Dain said nothing more but rose. Leaving the witch alone to her fire. Alistair had watched as Morrigan had approached Dain. The look on his face when he returned from her fire; while there was the same worried look on it, there was something more now. He stood and moved to Dain's side. The Warden moved away from the others, moving to the edge of the fire light where it met the shadows.

"We have to kill Flemeth."

Alistair's reaction was a bark of laughter. Everyone looked at the pair. Alistair closed his mouth when he saw the look on Dain's face.

"Seriously? You have met her. Kind of old weird lady, lives in a swamp. If Morrigan takes after her we are in a world of trouble."

"Are you going to ask why?"

"I'll bite. Why must we kill Flemeth?"

"Because we need Morrigan. Despite the way you feel about her, and yes her about you. You cannot die her usefulness. Flemeth wants her, we need her. Our needs are above all else."

* * *

><p>Dain didn't speak to Morrigan. She just watched from her campfire, keeping a low profile; avoiding the looks from Wynne, Leiliana even Zevran. Dain checked the edge of his sword and slid it into the sheath, the shield he slung over his back. He gathered the others with a look and spoke only a few words.<p>

"We'll be back shortly."

Alistair fell into step with him, Sten looming behind. Zevran ran after, his Antivan longbow held in his hand, the quiver jostling with his steps.

"Do you believe that she tells the truth? That she simply isn't lying?"

He asked, finally catching up to the others. Sten said nothing; it barely registered to the others but Dain knew that he didn't want to be there. Alistair frowned harder,

"I wouldn't put it past her."

"I don't think so. I have not seen worry in her before, last night she was afraid."

"Of Flemeth?"

"Of her, or that I would say I would not help."

"Why do you help her?"

Dain laughed, though he pointed to his chest and the griffon stamped upon it, Alistair knew what he pointed to.

"In the Deep Roads I nearly died. Wynne couldn't heal me totally. Morrigan did. That is your answer Zevran. I, we, need her powers. Her healing, her destruction. I need all of you. Or you wouldn't be here."

He turned back to the front. Inside he was surprised that those last words had come out. So much had changed from that night, from that night when his life had ended.

* * *

><p>"Ah, I was wondering when you would return. Dancing to her tune I see?"<p>

"Should I dance to yours Flemeth?"

The witch laughed, but her eyes so like to Morrigan's remained cold.

"I know why you are here."

"And here I thought we would have to explain it all."

Alistair said half under his breath. Zevran grinned, it withered when Flemeth glanced at him. She turned back to Dain. There was something more here. A change obvious to her, even from the Warden who stood behind him. Pulsing under his skin was the taint, heavier than before. Vital and racing as if caught in a cage.

"I have a choice to place before you Warden. Will you listen before you draw your weapons?"

"I will."

"Oh civilised now. I know what Morrigan has told you. The plans I have for her. You can do her bidding and fight me, or, you can return to her. With the grimoire she so desires, and tell her that I am dead. You will not see me again."

"Tricking Morrigan? I'm up for it. Oh, I'm a very bad man."

"When you gave her to me, you said you offered that which was most valued by you. I have come to see the value of Morrigan's magic. I need her. It's as simple as that."

The laugh that came from Flemeth's mouth was terrifying. The hairs on the back of everyone's necks rose. She strode to the higher ground behind her hut.

"I have a very bad feeling."

Zevran said, even as he placed an arrow on the string. Flemeth's outline shimmered and then she grew. She had passed her shape shifting abilities to her daughter, but never had Morrigan changed into this. Towering wings grew, a mouth filled with massive teeth.

"Oh, a high dragon. Great."

Dain reached for his shield. But before he drew his sword he lifted a hand over his head and clenched it. The ground shook as thuds of heavy ice coalesced above and around Flemeth. The dragon roared as it was battered. Dain took advantage of the stunning effect of the powerful attack. He sprinted, sword leaping into his hand. The stroke was well placed, it ribboned the skin and flesh around the wing, destroying the tendons, but opening him to the claws of the dragon. It gripped and tossed him, but following the attack was Sten. The great sword gave great blunted damage as it connected with that wound, cracking bones underneath.

"Wynne? Oh cunning."

Several arrows hummed in the air, tips glinting ice. They clattered against the dragon hide, a few useless, but a few found that wound, enlarging it, causing pain. Wynne moved to stand next to Zevran. The ice attack had sapped a lot of energy, she drew in deep breaths trying to control her breath conserving her mana. The three swordsmen moved in a planned attack. There was no way they could not avoid any injury. But they used the first wound against Flemeth, stunning blows against her weakened side. It was a heavy battle. Lethargy from the massive strikes they death set in quickly. The harsh attacks of claws, buffets from the uninjured wing, the roars that sent them all to the ground. Wynne didn't launch any more attacks, now driven only by healing those Flemeth attacked. It was only when a bleeding but still attacking Flemeth grabbed Alistair in her mouth did she deviate. Sten and Dain felt the tiredness go in a flash, something else birthing within. As one they moved, Dain thundered his shield into the cracked and bleeding wound under her wing joint. She roared in agony, dropping Alistair in a harsh landing to the ground below. Sten grabbed one of her horns, sudden strength wrenching her head to the side. The great sword clashed with the rear of her skull. The shock to Sten would have been massive, showing in the grimace he gave. To Flemeth it was worse, stunned; her head reeled; she couldn't defend. Sten took a step back, grabbing the hilt with both hands and summoned his strength. The sword connected with her skull, the sound echoed. Blood spurted, and her body was lifeless. Sten dropped the sword, broken halfway, useless now. Sten sunk to the ground, dragging in breaths, that sense of buoyancy gone, Dain braced himself on the stilled shoulder of the dragon. Wynne was already at Alistair's side, the Warden groaning.

"Wynne, how is he?"

His voice was breathless, wheezy.

"After that? Dented, bruised, bleeding. Much like yourself."

There was anger in her voice but Dain just shrugged, sliding to half lie on the forearm.

"And the arch demon is a dragon?"

Zevran said, walking around the dead dragon.

"You'll need Sten."

* * *

><p>"Don't touch it Wynne."<p>

She froze in the act of reaching to wipe away a trail of blood from Dain's forehead. Her brow furrowed at his quick words.

"I know of the taint Dain, there is no worry here."

He caught her hand as she made to press forward.

"Yes. There is. There is something else in there now Wynne. I did something in the tower."

As he spoke he dropped her gaze. Her eyes got rounder in shock, then sadness grew.

"Oh Dain."

"You knew Wynne. What it took. You were at Ostagar, the Tower. What it takes. I will do what it takes to end this blight. But I will not let any do what I cannot. Come, see to Alistair. We need to return to the others.

Dropping her hand Dain turned away, the heavy key in his hand, disgorged from the dragon's body. Inside the hut the grimoire that was now Morrigan's.


	31. Chapter 31 Cultists and a Bard

_Long time between drinks. Assignments have appeared, but I have managed a little more._

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><p><strong>Cultists and a Bard<strong>

Wynne wouldn't speak to him. As he led the others back to the campsite, all limping, she stayed with Alistair who still seemed woozy and shuffle footed. He had seen that look on the faces of others. But this time it had been directed at him, shame and disappointment. It had been the product of blood magic, at the deaths of brother Wardens. Dain supposed it didn't matter, the reasons he had done what he did paled in the knowledge that now there was hidden malice in his blood; he had no idea of the danger that his blood posed. But even a healer like Wynne; this secret unlocked that Avernus had spoken of, could wound even her. But perhaps her fright was not of physical harm to herself or even to him, maybe it was the fact that he had taken it. That the promise of utilising the taint in his blood was more important. Dain frowned, wincing as he veritably stalked up the hill. Important yes, but in that it could be the thing that saves the others. Wynne looked at Dain, his armour, that not dulled by blood, glinted in the watery light given by the dying sun. She hadn't thought she understood Dain, but she couldn't help the shocked surprise when he had avoided her healing; indeed shying physically away. She hadn't thought on it, but now there was light bruising around her arm where he had caught her.

"He's alright Wynne. Honest."

She hadn't realised she had been staring, she darted a look to Alistair who had an unconvincing smile on his face even with the pain creases in his forehead.

"Are you sure about that Alistair?"

"Have to be."

Zevran listened to the quiet exchange. He understood what Wynne had taken aversion too, the apparent reckless reasoning of their leader. But as he looked upon the man who had decided to spare his life, he knew that there was nothing reckless about his decisions. In fact, if anything, Dain seemed to take more upon himself, hurt, worry and the ultimate crush of responsibility. That was his weakness.

* * *

><p>"Thank the Maker."<p>

Leiliana said, helping to take Alistair's other side. Dain could feel Morrigan's eyes upon him as soon as they had entered the clearing. The sky had turned an angry purple; the fire more than welcome. He moved straight to her fire, the tome he carried seemed to gain weight at each step.

"It is done."

And then relief shone on her face and she didn't cover it up. It seemed genuine and stayed as she reached out.

"I..Thank you."

"Are…are you sure that she can actually die?"

She took her time answering.

"I think that you gave me time. No, not in that way I don't think she can. But with this I can prepare better. And I do mean it. For this."

Dain nodded and turned, but stopped only turning his head back, she was still looking at him.

"You can rely on me."

He didn't hear a reply; perhaps she said nothing. But her eyes were still on him when he entered his tent.

* * *

><p>"The rest of you can head straight to Redcliffe. The journey to the docks and back will only take maybe two days. And though I expect no trouble, it's strictly to find out where Genitivi is, whether the fake Weylon was lying."<p>

"I'll come with you Dain."

Dain looked at Alistair, he could nearly see the worry shimmering off the man. It had been some months since they had left Redcliffe. The Arl could only have got worse. Dain winced a little at how harsh he had been, needful as he still felt it had been. He had put his hope in mage healing to keep the Arl healthy until he truly found out if the Ashes were real or simply a legend.

"You are still not healed from the effort against Flemeth, and I would appreciate it if you would lead the others to Redcliffe. There will be more darkspawn now that Lothering has fallen. They need you."

There were slight protestations but there was relief in his eyes and he nodded.

"Morrigan, Lei?"

A blazing grin was Leiliana's acceptance, Morrigan simply crossed her arms and gave a terse nod.

"Good. We will see at the castle in a few days."

Dain didn't stretch out the parting, simply and quickly clasping hands with Alistair and turning. Morrigan was quickly at his side, Leiliana running to join him.

* * *

><p>"They have been watching. Looking for others like you, asking about the Brother."<p>

The man was all but cowering behind the bar. Morrigan's eyes were already narrowed; though at the cowardice of the innkeeper or at those who watched. Leiliana seemed relatively calm; there was no where they could be jumped from in that bar. But Dain knew that once they were outside it would be another story.

"Have there been others?"

The man simply stammered and sunk lower. Dain frowned but nodded,

"Fare well, I don't think that there will be any more trouble from them."

"How can you say that?"

The smile that lifted his lips wasn't pleasant.

"Because we will make sure of it."

Supporting his words Morrigan's hands glowed and Leiliana's short swords appeared and spun in her hands. All the man could do was open his mouth in a small oh.

It was rushed. Those outside had seen them enter and decided them a threat. But even for the strong and brave attack they launched, they seemed to have underestimated the small group. Lightning from a shimmering staff splintered into two disrupting their attacks and defences. Leiliana danced among them, her sword scissoring across chests and necks. Dain was silent in his attacks, only the whistling of his blade and the bruising thud of the shield as it struck armour and swords. As the last attacker moved forward, sword raised for a final blow, Dain threw up his shield tossing both it and the attacker's sword aside. His sword found the gap between breast plate and shoulder just as Leiliana's found a weak spot on the opposite side. His sword fell from nerveless hands as he died instantly. She grinned as she caught his eyes, kneeling to clean her weapons before searching the bodies for anything useful. Morrigan simply slung her staff over her back and folded her arms, waiting for them to journey back around the lake to Redcliffe.

"You know, it is obvious that Genitivi was taken. But why?"

"If the Ashes do exist, then someone is taking obvious and violent precautions that it isn't found."

"But we will continue nonetheless?"

"Yes."

"What about his armour?"

"Sell it. The innkeeper might have a use for it."

He didn't but he took it off their hands anyway, offering an ale and wines for the ladies in thanks. It was a quick stop, Dain could already feel his feet itching to be near the others.

"It will be a beautiful night for a stroll."

Leiliana said, sighing wistfully at the pin prick stars as she entwined her arm with his. Morrigan snorted, the look in her eyes barely changed as her silhouette shifted. The wolf looked at them and then melted into the trees lining the road.

"You know, that could be a handy skill to have."

Dain was silent a little, ears listening to the wind and rustling around them. Leiliana's presence was somewhat comforting, but he saw the way she moved with her bow and with her deadly daggers and he couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"I have heard that minstrels and bards are often more. That they are spies."

"Do you believe everything you hear?"

He smiled even as he answered,

"Yes, when it was my brother that said it."

He didn't look at her when she turned her head to look up at him.

"I…spent, did spend much of my time before, as a bard. As an assassin and spy. Contracted by the nobles of Orlais, in Val Royeaux."

"And yet I found you in the robes of a lay sister."

"Yes you did. I became disenchanted by my life, the intrigue and the games…no. No I didn't. I went to the Chantry to hide."

"Do you need protection?"

He wasn't ready for the giggle.

"I speak of being an assassin and how I hid and you ask if I need protection. My master, my Marjolaine, she framed me guilty of treason. I fled to escape death."

He was silent. Leiliana gave a sigh and pressed closer to his cool armour, clenching at his arm.

"Can we just look at the stars? I do not wish to talk of her."

Dain found himself wanting to press, to know of harm to her, of any to the others. But instead he just nodded.

"Yes, we can."


	32. Chapter 32 For a night

_Again a little break between updates. Sometimes I dont know why I thought studying more was the answer. Oh well, please enjoy and as ever R and R!_

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><p><strong>For a night<strong>

Leiliana and Dain stood together in silence watching the sun crest over the hills and lake below them. Their walk through the night had been conducted in silence, but Leiliana hadn't slid her arm from his. Right now, looking at the colours shot through the sky, in the calmness and almost emptiness Dain could almost forget the enormity of everything that stood before him. A few sharp winged birds dove around the still pair, their cries bright in the morning air. Dain didn't realise it, but the smallest smile lifted his lips. But all too soon he took the first step forward, breaking whatever spell they had been under. Leiliana danced to his side,

"To the castle?"

"Not quite. I think I'll drop in on a friend."

"Oh you are such a softie! I can see you and Sten walking hand in hand, showering cookies…"

Dain ignored her, her voice just a sweet lilting backdrop. He had interrogated Faryn because he needed Sten. And Sten with his soul, with Asala, would be better than Sten without his soul. And his family, or whatever the Qunari equivalent was, was still there. Still alive. After everything he had put Sten through, and would put him through, he did owe the Qun.

"Well, while you speak to Dwyn, I will be in the Chantry to have a quick chat with the Revered Mother."

Dain just nodded, still thinking on the extra effort he had put into his comrades, knowing that it could possibly be better put towards the effort against the blight.

* * *

><p>Dain knocked, the sound of footsteps suddenly stilling evidence of the house being inhabited. But this time he didn't kick the door in, the handle turned and he entered the dark main room. The dwarf didn't seem impressed to see him, but his two heavily tattooed human henchmen tried to eyeball him from their defensive positions against the walls.<p>

"I hear you are a collector of weapons."

"You hear many things. Why does that interest you?"

"Sten, the Qunari you fought beside, was badly wounded and his weapon lost from him. A merchant relayed that you had purchased the large blade."

"He didn't mention that the owner was still alive. I was honoured to fight along one such as him…and you. But I paid a good price for that weapon."

Dain nodded, he'd realised it would probably come down to this. He tossed the pouch at the dwarf.

"The fact that I'm offering what I am for a blade sight unseen, it will be enough."

True to form Dwyn bit on the edge of a gold sovereign he dug from the pouch.

"Aye, here. The chest is in the back room."

The sword was large, obviously modelled for the massive Qun. Dain couldn't help the shiver of happiness, of resolution. He gave Dwyn a nod as he left, ignoring the others. The blade had been wrapped carefully in pale material, a strong cord twined around to keep it covered. Hefting it over his shoulder Dain moved towards the Chantry, outside he could immediately see the red headed bard laughing with the children playing a game in the area outside the large building. And then something happened. It shocked him. She looked up recognised him and smiled. Not just a cordial acknowledgement, but an open mouthed smile that shone in her eyes as well. How could something that before, in that before time, would have been barely registered. But now, now it was like a revelation. Leiliana moved towards him, the faces of the children following her, still impressed, perhaps more so, when they alighted upon him.

"No blood stains. He was okay to lose it then?"

"Lose it as in; swap it for a couple of gold coins? Yes, totally okay with it."

Leiliana laughed, eyes studying the weapon.

"You know, I am very impressed Dain. That you would do this."

He couldn't think of an answer so made do with a shrug. Leiliana swapped the weapon for Dain, but didn't speak, instead smiling to herself before lifting her gaze to the castle.

* * *

><p>It was a different castle; despite time passing since they had left, Dain half expected to see the skeletons of the undead still littering the stairs, still lying in the great hall. But instead the knights lined the hall, Teagan speaking animatedly to Alistair, who grinned with his goofy grin. But Dain moved straight to Sten, without words he just offered the weapon. Sten took it and Dain turned to the others.<p>

"Dain! It is good to see you again. Alistair and the others have spoken to me of your travels. And some of the pressure in Orzammar."

There was a slight change in Dain's step, the automatic emotion and remembered pain the name of the dwarven city brought to mind. It was gone with the next. Teagan looked the same, but here and there the stress of the civil war, of the blight, shone in new creases in his flesh in the tense muscles around his eyes and mouth. Dain knew them, there was no doubt they were etched into his face also.

"I am glad to be back in Redcliffe."

"But I expect that you would be even gladder for some rest. We have had rooms ready for all of your companions and yourself since you left for the Frostbacks. As we speak the servants are readying baths for you. Please, we can talk later."

Dain just gave a weary smile, for Teagan it seemed thanks enough. He clasped hands with Alistair, again that light of relief in his face.

"Brother."

He whispered and then turned heading for his bed.

* * *

><p>"One of Perth's men said you wanted to talk?"<p>

Dain looked up; he had fallen asleep in his bath that morning. After relocating to the bed he had slept till late afternoon. Now his short hair was still damp from the quick splash in the ewer. He nodded, the bruises from the Qunari still ringed his neck, clearer now with clean skin. Wynne had worked wonders with Alistair and his wounds sustained from Flemeth, there was no creak in his step or wince as he fell into step with Dain.

"Teagan has given me leave to use Eamon's office."

They didn't speak as they moved through the hall now empty of bodies, though servants still worked to return the castle to its former state. The atmosphere of the castle was lighter but with Eamon still sickly and unconscious there would be no true relief. Dain didn't take the heavy chair behind the desk, instead taking one of the two chairs pulled next to the fire. Alistair didn't say anything to break the silence, but he shifted, realising he was worried about what Dain would say.

"I want to return to Ostagar. I realise that it could be extremely dangerous, but I wanted to tell you first. I have thought about what Elric said. And I think I need to go back, that we need too. "

A grin blazed from Alistair's face.

"You do! That's great. I wanted to ask you what you would think, but I didn't know how to bring it up and it not sound like a suicidal mission."

"You mean exactly what we do now? Every day is suicidal. But we accepted that the moment we were er, conscripted and I promised my father. I think it would be wise to take Sten with us as well as Wynne."

"She was there, she might want some sort of closure after Uldred's death. Sten for his muscle?"

"I've already made him furious at me for aiding Redcliffe. And he would be right to stick to his argument that this would not actually help even in a round about way. I know there will be darkspawn there, and they will be hard to face. Morrigan could be helpful too, and I know that Leiliana would want to be present if only to satiate her penchant for ballad writing. I can only ask, this time I cannot order."

Alistair offered his hand, Dain took it.

"I will be there. I owe it not just to Duncan and the other Wardens. But to Cailan."

"I know. We can leave early tomorrow. Those who do not want to journey they will be staying here to keep Redcliffe and the castle safe until we return."

"Sten will not wish to do either."

* * *

><p>They left the office and stepping in unconscious unison towards the great hall. True to his word Teagan had had the cooks busy in the kitchen. None of those who had travelled to the Spoiled Princess inn had broken their fast; only those quick drinks offered by the inn keep. For Dain, it had been akin to torture. But sleep and a bath had taken precedence. Now the smell of roasted meat and the hot scent of fresh bread had both men salivating and stomachs roaring. When they entered the hall the rest of their fellowship had already sat at the trestle tables, Perth and his knights also present.<p>

"'Scuse me Alistair, Dain."

Both men moved aside, Connor running into the hall.

"Oh Connor, wait!"

Isolde was bright red in embarrassment, chasing after the boy. He had no memory of what he had done and was now the eight year old boy he had been. He moved to Wynne, the mage the only one present who smiled, she even shifted aside to offer the boy a place. Dain moved forward pulling Alistair in his wake,

"Sit next to the boy."

He whispered, Alistair already heading that way. The boy was laughing as Alistair slid beside him, ruffling his hair. Dain took a deep breath and moved to the chair next to Leiliana.

"Morrigan decided that the tavern was more hospitable."

"You mean because of the First Enchanter being here?"

"Yes. Pretty much. Why is he here?"

Their eyes slid to Connor who was still laughing.

"I think he still worries for the boy, and he stays for Jowan. I do not know why. But he will return to the tower tomorrow. He knows there is much to be done. What did you and Alistair talk about?"

"I will talk to everyone later."

He found it actually quite simple to ignore the Orlesian, even though she stamped on his foot at one point, wheedling him with questions throughout the meal. He and Alistair were solid in their eating, their manners gone. After eating mingled with conversation, everyone had finally stopped, but Teagan didn't dismiss any. The Wardens didn't notice, meat repeatedly piled on their plates disappeared to be replaced and emptied again. It was only as Dain reached for his ale in final repletion that Teagan grinned, sending the others away. It wasn't Isolde who led Connor away, the lad waving maniacally at everyone until he was hidden behind a door, but her own maid, the blacksmith's rescued daughter Valenna. Dain moved to sit next to Teagan, the others taking it as a sign moved to fill the seats at the single table.

"I hope you do not mind if I stay. I have trouble sleeping and find company appealing."

Wynne smiled, but it was not her place to give permission and though it was Teagan's table it wasn't even he who spoke.

"Of course Irving. Please, have a seat."

The man did so, though he did sit next to Wynne. He was silent but watched with no doubt eagle eyes, for a few minutes he reminded Dain of Aldous.

"What are your next plans Dain?"

Teagan said, starting the conversation. Dain pulled his gaze from the elderly mage and looked at Teagan. A hand held his ale close, even as he leant back slightly.

"Alistair and I have spoken. We are returning to Ostagar."

Instant sound as everyone had an opinion of Dain's few words and tried to put it forward. But it only took a lifted hand from the Warden to have silence once more, he took a sip of his ale as he sought his words.

"Much was left behind after the battle. We must return, only for a short while. But it must be done. I also know that I cannot order any to follow us. This is a relative in and out mission; I will take only a few others. I would like you to come Wynne. You were there at Ostagar, and I think this will help with the closure that Uldred's death started. But it is up to you."

"I would have been angry if you hadn't thought of me Dain. I will come."

Dain looked at Sten, the Qunari's visage as stone.

"Sten."

Only his eyes moved.

"I would appreciate your sword and strength on this journey."

"I understand that, but I will not go. I fought before against my judgement, kadan. This is pure folly."

Anger crossed Dain's face, some for Sten's words, but some because inside he knew that Sten had struck the truth, but it was wiped quickly.

"Very well. You will stay here and protect the people until we are back."

Dain and Alistair shared a meaningful look, both a little worried about the path they had chosen.

"I would like to go. To see where the battle was, pay my respects to those that fell."

Dain pushed up, unable to keep still. He paced thoughtfully,

"There is nothing in that place, let it lie."

Dain stopped his movement, turning to look at Isolde who didn't seem to notice the way the Wardens, those Dain had brought with him and even Teagan looked at her. Finally she seemed to notice the silence. She looked up catching Dain's eyes; unable now to look away.

"I'm sorry, I was not looking for your opinion. Nor expecting to hear your voice, Arlessa."

"What?"

Even after everything it seemed that the woman did not understand. But she rose to his words quickly. She stood, pushing her chair back. Leiliana couldn't help but grin, hiding it behind a sip of her own wine.

"How **dare** you speak to me in that fashion."

Ever so slightly, Dain's left eyelid flickered. Zevran watched absolutely spellbound.

"I believe you may have forgotten what took place in the village below and in this castle those months ago. Everyone present, bar Zevran, oh and you, fought back for the lives of those still living. Against the minions of a demon."

Anger still flushed Isolde's cheeks.

"You were not present in the Tower. We did not simply ask for the mages help; it turns out that the demon here was not the only one we were to face."

He turned his face aside, unable to guard against the images in his mind. With a visible effort he turned back.

"That place is where our commander fell. Where your King was killed. There is nothing there? It is everything, the catalyst of all things."

His words and the silence after pushed the pale woman to speak.

"I understand."

He didn't think but spoke.

"No, you do not. I may have been told of the woman the Arl married by my mother, learnt of her Orlesian culture. Now I may have known you for months but I know nothing of you; learnt the little that I do in those few minutes before Teagan entered the castle alone. I may have fought for you, but there is no trust there. There is no understanding between us. We continue on to find the Ashes, but not for you."

"Then who do I have to convince?"

Her reply was as venomous as the look in her eye. But its wasn't Dain who spoke. Nor was it Teagan.

"Careful Isolde, you speak to the Warden Commander. He has seen things, been forced to do things that you have never even comprehended. You have no say in this, he alone will make the decision. Do not forget your obligation of respect. If nothing else, to you he is the man who saved your son."

Dain flashed a look to Alistair. The others were all looking at the man. He was blushing, but he was steadfast in his words. Wynne was grinning the same look as Irving, there were raised eyebrows on Teagan's face also. Dain was thinking hard, he hadn't thought much upon the title of Commander let alone the Warden Commander, and the weight of that title; but Alistair was right. If they were the only Wardens in Ferelden, and Alistair had told him he was the leader then he was indeed the Warden Commander.

"I apologise."

Her words were meek and said with her head down, her own colour high on her cheeks. Dain looked at her, then turning totally ignoring her, looking to Teagan.

"We will leave before dawn tomorrow. Thank you for your hospitality Teagan, Morrigan, Oghren and Sten will be honoured to keep an eye on the castle with you and your men. I ask for your permission, it has been a difficult few days and a few more hours sleep will be welcome on the morrow."

"Of course Dain, I will have some provisions ready for you."

"Excellent. Perhaps with such a mission before us Leiliana, we should meet in my room and discuss tactics."

Dain saw the quick flush on Alistair's cheeks. Leiliana simply laughed, but obvious was the rejection of Zevran's offer. But he gave a nonchalant shrug and instead those eyes settled onto Teagan.


	33. Chap 33 Where it all began and ended

_Here we go, wee bit longer between updates than I wanted. But here it is in all it's glory (ignore that she's lying). Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Where everything began<strong>

It was cold, getting colder. The wind had started to bring small flecks of snow with it; they had melted as soon as they had landed. But the sullen, nearly purple clouds ahead heralded more. At each footstep, Dain and Alistair had stopped replying to the questions of the others, not joining in to the conversations. Wynne's replies too were short, worried eyes flicking back and forth from her comrades and the fields of Ostagar that lay ahead. Every so often, a shadow or wind borne snow had both men spinning, minds rushing to recognise a threat, their eyes would meet afterwards, but there was no sign of sheepishness. Zevran didn't add much too any conversation, his teeth chattering in the cold. He had quickly taken up the leather leggings he wore now, buried in a swathe of material, held closed with relentless arms. But he dropped the hood as the massive tower loomed out of the snow filled sky.

"Is that it? The Tower of Ishal?"

Leiliana said from the depths of her cowled cloak. Cold roiled out from the material showing her spoken words. Shudders of memory flashed through Dain's mind but he answered.

"Yes. But we're heading to the…west side."

Dain realised he had set a harsh pace, but Wynne the physically weakest kept pace well even carrying on her short replied conversation. But their words died away as even the trees seemed to turn black and skeletal; claw like against the pale snow. And without any warning from the Wardens, wolves no longer their natural grey and silver, but black and twisted with blight erupted from the twisted flora. One scrambled to gain purchase on Dain's hastily lifted shield, snapping jaws snicking closed close to his face. He fell backwards with the weight, now unable to pull free his sword, unable to pull a hand free to draw his dagger, anything to keep the weight lifted and now crush his chest, even with the armour. Then the crack and yelp as an arrow fired with strength and power struck the animal with such force that it flew off, the mist of blood from the strike on Dain's face. With a roar he powered up. The next was cut in two as he drew his sword and swiped in a single movement. A wolf leapt, he spun rolling his head to the side, but the sharp curved claws carved runnels in his head. His blood followed the animal as it found no purchase landing on its back. Dain stabbed his sword through the rib cage; twisting and dragging it free leaving the wolf dying in a puddle of its own blood. Alistair stood impaling a wolf stumbling on the bodies of two others. Dain staggered as blood flowed from the rips in his skull, unable to see as the blood poured into his eyes. And then the birth of blue light and a quick pain before he felt the lacerations heal. Wiping the blood with his glove he saw Wynne next to him, the light faded and she sent a wave of energy in a ring around them, the last few wolves falling to the ground stunned. Dain took advantage as did Alistair and Zevran, and they laid about them with little finesse to finish the animals off. Finally they looked at each other, checking for wounds, Leiliana moving to them, reaching a hand to help Dain wipe his blood from his eyebrow.

"Thank you. It was a good shot."

"I know. Though now you are more red then anything else."

"Those animals are tainted by the blight, though it is new. I felt them as a blur, but I didn't think it was…this."

Zevran had sheathed his weapons, bending to pick up his hastily discarded cloak, shaking the snow and ice from it before quickly swathing himself again. Dain sighed, rubbing his face with a handful of snow. It was cold, but roughly cleaned him. Also waking him up slightly; the area around him seemed so steeped in sadness that he felt slightly dull and heavy. Wynne stepped up to him; he automatically bowed a little, her cool fingers dancing through the bristles of hair, checking the healing.

"I really wish you would take more care, dear."

Dain just managed a smile. Wynne fell into step with him, every so often her arm would brush against his; perhaps she was more afraid of what lay ahead than she showed.

* * *

><p>It seemed more ruined than it had been. But Dain didn't stop, moving as if drawn to the old Warden fire, to where the priestess had looked over the battlefield to be and prayed. And as if by magic, the snow and wind stopped and the group looked out onto the now calm battlefield of Ostagar. Dain stumbled to a halt, Alistair appearing at his side. Pikes, spears and ragged banners fluttered painfully. Drifts of snow had built up against half decomposed ogres; the bodies of spawn and man were piled atop one another. Dain dropped his head unable to keep that view. Looking down upon another victim. Snow had settled into the eye sockets of a man, and despite the bone showing through the papery peeling skin on his forehead, he seemed merely asleep. What he had imagined of Ostagar; it had never been in the stillness before him. The old smell of smoke still lay here, as if there was an army behind him, still preparing for deathly battle. Dain couldn't help but lift his head to look where Loghain had been hidden, ready to attack the flank of the attacking enemy. He turned to look at Alistair.<p>

"We will find him."

There was no doubt in his mind that he would. That they would. Find Duncan, the man who had brought them together, who was supposed to be leading them still. Dain didn't feel the cold. Only the agony of loss and the sullen burn of hatred murmured in his chest at the wreckage caused by the darkspawn and the emotions of a man proclaiming to be Regent. Leiliana crept forward, her feet making awkward sounds in the snow covered stone, moving to stand before Alistair, grasping hand in her gloved ones. Dain turned to Zevran, the elf as quiet as he had ever been. But he turned as he felt Dain's gaze,

"Though it is the scene of a painful defeat. I feel…humbled. Thank you, for seeing me fit to be here."

Dain placed a hand on a covered shoulder,

"We are comrades now. But here where we look upon our greatest defeat. It will not be happening again."

Leiliana clenched Alistair's hands tight, looking nearly feverishly into his face, trying to make him look at her. Finally it took her whispering his name.

"Dain is right. We will find him."

And finally a grin showing the Alistair she knew so well broke through. He lifted his hand, pressing cold lips to the back of her hand.

"Thank you."

He dropped her hands as the sound of Dain drawing his sword rang through the still air. His action was copied by Alistair and Zevran, the latter swearing in colourful Antivan at shedding his cloak once more. It was violent and sudden. It seemed that these spawn recognised them and viciously went for Alistair and Dain. The last was Dain's. The sword sliced through the dark spawn's knee and it fell hard, but still tried to claw for him, that unhinged jaw hissing and growling. Dain watched with no compassion, nothing but hate as he lifted his armour encased foot and stamped down. His weight, his anger, too much for the skull. It cracked and was crushed, dark blood and brains oozing out. There was silence; even their rough breath was only punctuated by the steam around their mouths, until a long drawn out whine sounded. Leiliana jumped. Dain didn't, he knew that sound he had heard it before. Zevran opened his mouth, but closed it when Dain lifted a hand. He couldn't see anything, but he knelt, ignoring the blood on his foot, and the snow now black with dark spawn brains. He stayed still and a short yip sounded. From the mages camp came a limping shadow. The mabari was thin, mincing towards the group with a hung head. But it didn't deviate from moving to Dain, sidling close to him, before sitting so it's head pressed against his arm. Slowly he rubbed the animal's ears, a low whumpf coming from the animal's throat. It took only a few moments of scratching for the tiny tail started to stir, making a runnel in the snow. Wynne moved up, the mabari lifting its head watching her crouch next to Dain, her hands skating above its filthy fur. Slowly blue welled from between her fingers and the animal seemed to give a most human like sigh. Leiliana cooed at the sound, a hand over her mouth.

"It looks like the mabari, the one that you found that herb for."

Alistair said, the tail sweeping faster at the sound.

"I suppose it will be wanting this."

Zevran tossed the bread to Dain; he offered it the animal taking and seemingly inhaling it. Dain stroked the animal, for being alone in the spawn infested ruins it seemed remarkably hale. Wynne was pressing at a hind leg, presumably the cause for its previous limp.

"Are you coming along?"

Dain said, running a finger up the cropped ear. It yipped an answer and stood up, though it stayed close to Dain's leg.

"Not exactly tiny is he?"

The mabari grumbled, but was busy pushing at Dain's hand.

"Actually he is pretty thin, but with some food he'll be back to normal in no time."

* * *

><p>The mabari came in handy. With sharp claws and an enthusiasm that was impressive, it set to digging up Elric's key. With a triumphant bark it offered Dain the dirt covered key. Strangely, it was now that he felt reticent about heading to Cailan's tent. Though now that slightly wind had returned and the shredded sides billowed ghostlike. Frowning hard Dain strode towards it, feeling the smudge of spawn further to the east towards Ishal. Alistair followed him into the tent, sitting on an upturned box, watching with large round eyes as Dain unlocked the battered chest. He found that his hands avoided the wrapped sword, instead reaching for the unsealed envelopes, stained fingers drawing the stiff paper free. He read it quickly,<p>

"What does it say?"

Alistair asked, he offered it the other warden taking it reverently. The second letter made him frown. It seems that Cailan would not even listen to his uncle. It echoed Duncan's worries, and to an extent the ones that Loghain had uttered. But Dain remembered too well the glory that Cailan sought. But further down…the subject of an heir.

_A son from both lines…unite Ferelden like no other, we must accept that perhaps this can never be._

Dain looked at Alistair, handing him the letter. At the first lines of the last he was surprised at the familiar salutation. He pressed at the folds, it seemed to have been crumpled before being smoothed and refolded carefully. As he read he could see perhaps way Loghain had moved as he did.

"You look…odd?"

"Celene was coming to Ferelden. This refers to a more permanent alliance between the countries."

"What?"

Alistair took the letter, eyes shredding across the page,

"Loghain knew? Is this why he did this?"

"Even I heard the rumours in the Marches that Cailan was a…ladies man. This proves nothing Alistair. Come on."

He took the letters, sliding them into their envelopes and tucking them inside his armour. The sword he offered to Alistair. He took it warily,

"But, this is Maric's blade."

"And despite your protestations you are his son."

Alistair simply looked at it awkwardly before offering it back.

"I don't know…"

Dain nodded and took it, pulling free the material wrapping and leaving the tent. Zevran looked at the naked blade, the yellow runes reflecting in his golden eyes.

"Oh my, now that is a sexy blade you hold Dain."

Dain shook his head, but there was a faint grin on his lips.

"We clear the area then head over the bridge."

* * *

><p>They couldn't look away. There was no mistaking the effort gone too for that body, the few strands of golden hair left on the rotting skull. But there was no revulsion at the body, but at its treatment. It had been strung up, arms, legs spreadeagled and fixed to the frame work of some dark spawn creation.<p>

"Zevran. Cut him down."

He was the only option, Alistair and he would have broken the frame. But there was still a smear of anger on the elf's face as he snaked up the wood. He dexterously cut the rope, prying the daggers from the bones. Dain held the body of the dead King, Alistair helping Zevran cut the last rope. Dain and Alistair didn't speak, but they placed the King on the ground. As they moved the body the Wardens could feel the presence of dark spawn getting closer. Wynne moved forward, placing the ruined arms across the mutilated chest. It was all they could do, the spawn were too close.

"Forgive us, my king. When we have sent the darkspawn from this place, we will return. We will set you on the pyre and return you to the Maker."

Dain bowed his head, beside him the mabari gave a soft yip, perhaps it too could feel the dark spawn like the weight on his chest.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe that you volunteered for this!"<p>

Zevran spat as he back handed slicing the head from a genlock. As he spun he nearly stumbled, seeing now what they others did. The ogre was slow to rise, but it shouldn't have. The two weapons sprouted from its chest should have had it dead. Around it skeletons rose, not just those of spawn, but the decomposed bodies of human soldiers, clutching notched and stained weapons.

"You know, I'm not surprised there are zombies."

"Can you do something to the Necromancer?"

Zevran shrugged, but he grinned and then his outline shivered and he was gone.

"That's Duncan's sword!"

And then Alistair was a blur as he ran towards the ogre. Dain didn't think, he gripped his sword and shield and was right behind the armoured form as it attacked ferociously the undead ogre. The mabari's terrible growl was a constant, the backdrop to the sound of grunts and shouts of fury coming from both Alistair and Dain. Wynne held her ground, but was forced to scull back a few lyrium potions. But each time at the surge of mana her spells caused such havoc. Leiliana fired arrows in rapid succession at the skeletons, until she saw the necromancer stumble; Zevran appeared before it ready to attack it with his glinting weapons. But it wasn't quite done, the blast from its staff she felt from where she stood. It flung Zevran to the ground and he stayed there in a daze. She changed aim in a heartbeat, the flame tipped arrows were in the air and in a split second others followed. They thundered into the necromancer, it stumbled back, unable to stop the attack. Zevran seemed to snap into himself and powered up, thundering both blades into the spawn's already ruined chest. As it fell the magic binding the other spawn and skeletons to the parody of life also fell. Dain looked at Alistair; the man had dropped his swords and was yanking at those still buried in the body of the again dead ogre. He seemed oblivious to the blood running from his head spattering the ogre's purple skin with red. Dain knew he could saw nothing and instead headed for the others. But froze. He knew that armour. Despite being covered in snow, in blood and spawn remains. Realisation shocked him, he could barely keep breathing. His knees buckled and he knelt before the former Warden Commander. His head was nearly severed, by some perverse twist of fate it still faced towards the tower, to where those flames should have called reinforcements. The vision of Duncan blurred; he didn't feel the tears. But they were in his voice as he called to Alistair.

"Alistair."

It was enough, the man moved to him, Duncan's blood stained dagger and sword were in his arms. He clutched them even tighter as he saw what Dain had found. Wynne moved behind them, Leiliana and Zevran silent pair; he leant on her but hobbled to the two men. The mabari sat on his haunches, pressing against Dain.

"Maker he knew. He saw the tower alight, but no rescue. Oh Maker, he knew."

Alistair's words were a whisper. Despair thudded into Dain's chest at every shocked beat of his heart. He had known; he was only mortal. This man who had saved him from the destruction of his home. But somewhere, at sometime, he had built him up to be this strong invincible being. And even knowing that he fell on the battlefield, that he and Alistair were alone, there had been something in his heart that told him that Duncan was around, was present. But here was a terrible reminder of all they were to face. More. This was only the bare taste of the horde, of what they had seen in the depths of the Deep Roads. There had been no hint of the Archdemon, bar that which the Wardens felt. And while here nearly a dozen Wardens had fallen, he and Alistair were fighting, two! Against this enemy that was more brutal than the ogre, than the shrieks, than anything they had faced before. Dain let the tainted air of the battlefield fill his lungs a few more time before he found his feet and moved forward. Leiliana watched with unashamed and unhindered tears falling down her cheeks. They mirrored those on Dain's face, those on Alistair's, cutting through the blood that still sluggishly fell. Dain stooped over Duncan's body, with tenderness that was at utter odds to the fight before, picked up the battered body. Even with the armour, the body felt light. There was no strain in his muscles and Dain felt like he could carry his body to Weishaupt itself. As he stood Duncan's head slid back, resting against his shoulder and chest, as if sleeping, not dead for over a year. Theirs was a solemn silent group that moved back to the spawn tunnels and the emptiness of Ishal.

It was not a pyre of past kings. There was no mass of mourners, no green boughs to colour the smoke. It was a low lookout post, trees and branches hacked with swords and sidearms dragged beneath it. On top of the snapped branches lay Cailan and Duncan. Behind the quiet group lay the recovered armour of Cailan, his shield lay facing the pyre, the sword placed before it. Wynne lifted a hand; the outline of a flame appeared, finally roaring life. Despite being twisted and broken from the taint, the branches burnt well, the smoke lifting into the sky. Snow and ash fell slowly, swirling in the bare breeze, settling on shoulders and heads. Zevran dusted himself, the mabari shaking to rid itself. Only Dain and Alistair stayed still, their eyes on the pyre that slowly devoured the bodies of the King and their leader that had died alongside him. The long haunting howl the mabari gave lingered on the air, no thunder of trumpets, no ring of cathedral bells. Just the wavering mournful howl. Slowly Dain blinked turning to the others,

"Come on. We have to get back."

* * *

><p>Dain and Alistair didn't really speak. But they strode away from Ostagar side by side, still clasped in Alistair's arms were Duncan's weapons. At their side the mabari trotted, the kaddis that it had been painted with had faded, coloured now with the blood and gore from its time living rough and the battles against spawn. But even with its appearance and skinny sides, it seemed genuinely happy to be leaving the haunting site of Ostagar. Dain's hand fell to his side; the mabari tilted its head. His fingers found the animal's ears; one pricked up, the other slightly folded. He played with the ears as he walked.<p>

"I do not think I wish to go back there."

Leiliana said, breaking the silence, Wynne smiled.

"I do believe I know what you mean."

On Dain's back the yellow runed sword continued to glow, alongside it the sword Starfang glinted dangerously. The dead king's shield rested on his arm still, fingers wrapped around the handle.

* * *

><p>Alistair and Dain still hadn't spoken when they ascended the stairs to Redcliffe. Soldier's stationed at the gate and in the training grounds had stilled as they group had entered. There was no mistaking the herald, the golden armour strapped to Zevran and Alistair's backpacks, the shape of that sword on Dain's. As they entered the hall there were even bitten off oaths. Teagan moved to them, taking in the looks on their faces before leading them to Eamon's office. The mabari followed, nails clacking on the stones. There Teagan helped them place the armour on the ground. Dain found himself loathe to release his grip on the shield. But managed too, hiding the pain of sudden cramp in his hand. Teagan placed Maric's sword and his son's shield on the desk, the three men just looking at the weapons.<p>

"How is Eamon?"

Teagan looked at Dain for a few moments before answering.

"The same."

Dain nodded wearily, finally lifting his gaze to the red headed man.

"We head to Haven next. But first I think a rest."

Alistair just nodded, casting a last look at Duncan's weapons, still uncleaned before heading like Dain and the newly imprinted mabari, to a bed and sleep.


	34. Chapter 34 Emptiness and a Rose

**Emptiness and a Rose**

He couldn't help but spin the dagger Alistair had offered him as they had left Redcliffe, in his hands. Totally reticent to leave it sheathed. It was Duncan's and even in his mind he referred to it as that. Dain frowned, running his thumb over the inscription on the hilt, _in peace, vigilance. In war, victor. In death, sacrifice._ It made his guts feel light, and he saw Alistair saying those words before he had managed to gag down the blood in that chalice. It seems like standing at Cailan and Duncan's pyre had happened years ago. That in the days it had been, he had aged a thousand years. Dain kept walking, out ahead of the others. But he wasn't alone, Grimm the mabari gambolled ahead. But behind his friends looked worryingly at his back, at his silence. It seemed even harder and unbreakable than ever.

The story was cute; he gave it only a cursory listen. The trail of stars through the sky being a trail of tears of a woman to her beloved. The others enjoyed it; it had been rendered sickeningly sweet by Leiliana's Orlesian accent. Oghren, as drunk as he was had been following the bard's words with a confused but serious air, Wynne with a knowing grin on her face, her face in rapture. Alistair had been watching the red haired woman with a different look; he would have to grow the balls to speak to the woman about his feelings. Though Dain had a feeling that Leiliana knew about them, and maybe even coyly reciprocated them. They had been surprised when Morrigan had entered the ring of their fire, curling up on a sleeping mat to listen. Shale had watched with glowing eyes, a humph coming from her at the climax of the story.

"That was a beautiful tale Leiliana."

Wynne said, breaking the silence after the emotional story. Zevran had his head tilted back, looking at the stunning silver path through the sky,

"You know, the Crow's have another tale about what the so called 'tears' really are."

Before he could speak, everyone knowing where one of his stories would turn, Leiliana looked to Dain. He had been quiet for a long time, still looking at the dagger, those words engraved into it. He flicked his gaze up clearly surprised as she hailed him.

"What do you think of the stars Dain? A trail of tears or something more crude?"

He didn't tilt his head back to contemplate the night sky like the others, instead he stood. The dagger disappeared in a slit second into the sheath at his waist.

"The stars? The night sky is black. I see no tears; I see no spurt of climax. The stars, the moon are gone."

He took the clay jug from Oghren's nearly nerveless fingers and sucked from the end. She should have left it, but the utter heartbreak that seemed to coat his words moved her to speak. If Zevran had been faster he would have hushed her, Wynne would have done the same.

"You see nothing? But the Maker has made something so glorious for us to contemplate."

Narrowed eyes settled on her face, the jug nearly back in Oghren's possession.

"The Maker? I stopped believing in him when I saw the ravaged body of my nephew. His guts spilling onto the stones of my home. Anything I felt towards the Maker died when my family was murdered, when I left my Mother to a sure cruel death at the hands of the man who had been friends with the family he betrayed. The Maker is nothing to me Leiliana."

"And yet we go to find the Ashes of his Bride."

She bit back.

"I need Eamon. If Isolde wishes the ashes of a dead woman, whether they can heal her husband or not, I will find them. If they do not, then Eamon is as good as dead, and I will place Teagan as Arl and take what I need from him."

His retort was as quick and as bitter. There was silence, he gestured to the night sky.

"There is no day, there is no dawn. I am always in the dark."

"Dain!""

It was Wynne, his name wasn't said with anger, it was said with the recognition in finally understanding the hard young man who had sided with her. Not for what was right, but what he needed. He needed the mages, so he had aided them, not slaughtered them like Gregoir and the injured Cullen had wished. Maker how she hoped she was wrong, that he was… He turned his head to her,

"You saw Ostagar Wynne, do you truly think that the Maker would have allowed such a slaughter? There is no Maker; there is only what we make of it."

"But you saved Connor."

Alistair said, taking Dain's gaze easily. Of all those around the fire Dain found keeping his eyes hard. Why, when even with the revelation of his royal blood had made no difference to him; that he had lost nearly as much as he had. Dain dropped everyone's gaze now, Morrigan's golden eyes shining like an animals in the fire light. How he felt so broken.

"I saw Oren in him. I couldn't kill him, no matter if you saw an abomination there."

"Why not?"

Zevran asked.

"If I had I think I would have killed the only part left inside that can feel."

"You cannot feel!"

Leiliana spat out, Dain frowned, looking frightening, but she didn't back down.

"I cannot? Do you think that I would have searched for Sten's soul if I could not feel? That I would have stood next to Alistair as his bitch of a sister treated him like dirt. Would I if I had nothing inside? And if you would but ask I would stand next to you as you confront Marjolaine over your mysterious past. You saw the marks Flemeth left on me, Alistair and Sten when we came back from her hut. Do you think that I would have braved that dragon if I had nothing inside? Even though I don't think Flemeth can be killed so mundanely, I still braved that swamp for Morrigan to be safe, if only for a little while."

Zevran shifted uneasily, unsure as to whether his presence would be part of the conversation.

"I saw the hopelessness and resignation in Zevran, because that is what I felt as I fled my family. That is what halted my blade, birthed trust, even though he was sworn to kill Alistair and I. You know, every time he speaks I hear the echoes to my dead sister in law and every time I close my eyes when he says the simple words, 'come my friend' I see her in the few hours before she was killed trying to save her son. But I would never stop him saying those words, because when he calls me friend it gives me strength and it gives him strength too. He can feel now, he can fight alongside anyone of us and still call us friends. We both know its easier to die than to live, and regardless we both stagger on."

Zevran just looked at Dain with a shocked expression, thankfully hidden by the shadows and flickering fire light. He never thought that someone, anyone could read him so well. Know that him being able to say the simple word friends and mean it took so much. He hadn't known that Dain's brother had married an Antivan. The notion made him grin; it gave him more information about the past Dain didn't speak about often. Dain didn't met anyone's eyes, instead he was looking at the jug still loosely held in his hand, whatever potent liquor Oghren had bought hadn't seemed to paralyse Dain's vocal cords, but instead loosened them. Dain lifted it to his mouth once more but kept sculling, no one knew how much he wanted to destroy that taste of bile his words had brought to his mouth, quench the burn it had started. He didn't think that he would be able to taste anything he ate for the next week, but that was the least of his troubles. He would never admit it to anyone, but he found himself terrified about even the possibility of finding Andraste's ashes, the possibility of failure and doing the last thing he wanted to do, essentially destroying the man his father had thought so much of, had fought with and for. The liquor was gone, the jug empty. Dain tossed it to Oghren, landing in the open flap of his tent. No one had spoken, eyes still following him. But Alistair's. The man might be awkward, try and deflect with dry humour, but he had had his back ever since that night in Ostagar. His eyes were on the bard who sat dejected, eyes too shiny to account for a simple love song. He moved to Alistair's side, finally the ex templar looking up at him. Dain bent, resting a hand on his shoulder, and still able to whisper quietly,

"You had better tell Leiliana about that rose Alistair, or I will thrash you with it."

He couldn't help but grin at the confused and embarrassed look Alistair gave him.

"Sten and I will take this watch. But in the morning she had better blush every time she sees you or I will take it out of your hide in a sparring session after I beat you with the flower."

Standing he looked at Sten, without words the Qunari stood, hefting Asala from beside him and following the Warden out of the fire light. Zevran had some idea of what he spoke; he'd seen the glances from Alistair, some subtle and not so subtle. Seen the rose twirled between shaking fingers when he thought everyone was asleep when he did his turn at watch. Zevran grinned and looked at the place the two he'd started to call friends had disappeared before sighing and heading to his tent. Everyone did the same, but as he stretched and cast a look to the fire before closing the flap he saw Alistair reach to halt Leiliana before she reached hers.


	35. Chapter 35 Is it Haven

**Is it Haven**

"I have never heard of Haven."

Wynne said, Dain was worried that the frown on her face had settled as they took in the small smattering of houses. But what worried him more was its apparent desertion.

"Who are you?"

The guard barked, striding towards them. Dain stopped and waited for the man to come to them.

"Just passersby."

"We don't want your likes here. Turn around and leave."

Dain tried a smile to placate the man, it didn't work.

"Peace, we do not mean to intrude. Could you tell us a little about this place?"

The man seemed reticent, but the glowing smile offered by Leiliana made him slightly less tongue tied.

"We don't appreciate sightseers, your kind. We do fine on our own, our priest at the chantry looks after us."

"A priest I've never heard of such a thing."

Both Alistair and Zevran slid smoothly forward to act as obstacles as the man sneered at Leiliana.

"It's always been here, always will be so."

"Thank you, before we leave, do you have a merchant so we could trade goods."

The man studied Dain, as if there was something else said with his words, but he nodded begrudgingly. He nodded, offering only a vague arm wave in the direction.

"Aye, trade your goods and be on your way."

Dain could feel the man's eyes on his back as he strode away, his companions followed but they were stopped by Sten.

"This is pointless."

Dain turned, he'd wondered why it had taken this long for Sten to speak up, but he didn't speak directly to him,

"Zevran, Wynne, Alistair, I appreciate if you would talk to the merchant. Find something out. Lei, Morrigan could you check some of the houses. Oghren, try not to frighten the child."

The dwarf nodded, but was already half to the boy who seemed to be singing under his breath. Everyone nodded, but most of their attention was on Sten whose arms were folded but whose continence was darker than usual.

"This is a needful stop."

"Do you propose to continue west until it becomes east and try to flank the dark spawn?"

"Right now I try to build an army that would stand up to the spawn that move against us."

Sten's eyes narrowed. Dain felt reckless, before Sten could answer he retorted again.

"Enough Sten, as long as you are under my leadership you will listen to me. I don't care if you do not like it, you will do what I say."

The smile the Qun gave wasn't nice. He rolled his shoulders and drew Asala from his back, Dain didn't draw any weapons.

"Then I challenge you for leadership of this pitiful group then."

Now Dain grinned, drawing Starfang and the shield, Harvard's Aegis, settled on his arm.

"I do not wish to alarm any one, but Sten looks a little angry."

Alistair didn't turn, Wynne did.

"Oh. And he has his sword out."

"Alistair, I think you might want to see this."

He only did so when Wynne placed a hand on his arm. He spun and saw the huge broadsword descending towards Dain. Zevran watched with a grin on his face,

"This is quite exciting. Anyone care to place a wager?"

Despite his size and that of his weapon Sten was fast. Dain grinned though, heart speeding in his chest. But although there was adrenaline lancing down his veins there seemed to be no fear. Dain had fought against foes like him before, often. But with Sten there was more skill, more finesse. He had watched the man fight, had fought with them, and known deep down that there would be time when he would fight against him. He wouldn't lose. It simply wasn't an option. If any of Sten's strikes connected he would be useless against further blows, instead he used Sten's skill against him. Until he didn't see the flow of the attack and barely managed to dodge the strike. And he didn't, not totally, the tip struck his forehead, he could feel it strike bone, and rip down towards his temple. Blood flew out at the strike. And behind the vicious wound anger grew. Dain let out a growl, and as he leapt forward the blood that poured from the head wound leapt with him. He and this new weapon struck Sten together. He staggered but kept his feet. Where ever Dain looked was coloured in shades of red. He ignored the pain, blocked the hurt and simply focussed on Sten. With the blood still pouring he barely remembered the vial he had drunk, but accepted this new power and used it. As his blood spattered the ground he simply attacked, hard and fast. Alistair watched as Dain seemed to ignore the massive wound on his head and some how pick up speed, in attack and movement.

"Dain stop!"

Wynne yelled, but Zevran caught her arm. He too knew of what she saw. This new blood magic. Dain danced away from a feeble attack and thunder his shield into Sten's unprotected face. The shock jarred the Qun, blood spurting from his nose. Asala fell from his hand, the Qun barely keeping himself from falling full to the ground. Dain heaved in breath, finally more colours in his vision. He shuffled back, closing his eyes to somehow get back from this precipice. He felt others moving towards him, but none reached to him. He felt the thrill in his blood, but also the shock to his own stamina and health that this tainted magic had given him. He released the grip on his weapons and knelt too, holding his hand over this new wound.

"Stay down Sten."

Found himself staying, an eye cracking open to look at the defeated warrior. Sten was looking at him through one eye too, the other closed with instant swelling. He made no move, to answer or get up. The sudden drape of robes at the Qunari's side showed the Wynne had gone to him. The shuddering pain of his wound struck him and he hid his gaze under his hand, fingers finding the wound, sliding in the blood.

"Are you in line Sten?"

He said without looking.

"I am, kadan."

Dain's shoulders finally relaxed. Blue shone on the back of his eyes, but he knew that Wynne had not moved. Feathers tickled his arm and he knew Morrigan saw to the wound. Lifting his head and dropping his head he looked at the witch.

"So that is what it does."

She lifted an eye brow at him,

"Apparently."

She stood, even offering her own hand. He took it and managed to get to his feet. His blood showed on Morrigan's hands, he grabbed one yanking at his water skin and poured its contents over.

"Dain."

He ignored her and made sure her skin was clear before grabbing the other and cleaning it harshly and thoroughly. When it was done he looked at the others,

"Anyone else? Anyone? Sten?"

There was something close to desperation in his voice. But all shook their heads,

"No kadan."

Dain gulped in air, not realising that he had been holding his breath. He walked away, moving for the small jetty. There he knelt and dunked his hands repeatedly into the cold lake, wiping and cleaning any trace of his blood from his face, armour and gloves. He took a deep breath, trying to centre his breathing back in his chest. As soon as he felt someone move onto the wooden jetty he stood.

"Dain, would you like me to look at your wound?"

Wynne's voice was quiet. He shook his head and moved past her.

"No, Morrigan has done enough. Come, we shouldn't linger here."

* * *

><p>Dain and Grimm looked at the small altar, the smell of spilt blood heavy. Moving up the mabari tentatively licked at the blood. His hacking and nearly painful whine gave Dain more evidence that there was something terribly wrong in Haven.<p>

"He is right, it is human blood."

Morrigan said, kneeling and peering interestedly around the hearth and altar. Grimm whined and pressed up against the back of Dain's legs, the man dropping hand for the dog to press against.

"Then it seems we are in the right place. Be on your guard Morrigan, I have a feeling that as soon as they see us leaving our stay will get interesting."

She smiled but still only sauntered out of the door. It wasn't them that had drawn the ire of villagers, and more than villagers. Oghren and Sten were already laying about with their massive weapons, villagers trying to attack the group with their bare fists, others with their own weapons and martial training were also running to attack. With a piercing whistle Grimm was off and running, charging solidly into one man racing for Wynne, once he was down Grimm fastened his massive jaw around the man's neck. Dain sprinted after the hound, leading with his shield. Morrigan stayed back, but ploughed powerful ranged attacks into the attacking group. Soon they were alone, standing in the midst of the dead bodies.

"What did you do?"

Morrigan said. Alistair reacted first.

"Nothing, we were talking fine. Well not totally fine, but when Lei moved for the back room he attacked us."

Alistair caught Dain's eye, he knew what the man was thinking. It was playing remarkably close to the unfurling of the fake Weylon line in Denerim. Dain cleaned his sword on the shirt of a dead man at his feet before moving to the shop.

"Lei, come and pick the locks, we'll take whatever we need."

* * *

><p>Dain watched the man. He had seen fanaticism before. It was alight in this 'priest's' eyes. There was no doubt that if Genitivi was alive he would be here. But as surely as he knew all this, he knew that only he and his companions would be leaving the chantry alive. He didn't reach for his weapons, but there was some sort of perverse glee in Eirik's eyes as he shouted for his followers to fight for Andraste, to fight for Haven. The villagers died first, mostly from the jolting electricity that Morrigan sent around them. The guards most were taken down by arrows from both Leiliana and Zevran, grinning as he used his newly purloined bow. But Eirik, he was taken down by a single sword thrust that took him through his throat. Dain kept his eyes as the man died, he tilted his weapon and the body fell to the ground.<p>

"Search his men, I need Genitivi."

Dain himself knelt, his hands seemed detached from the rest of him. Around Eirik's destroyed neck was a medallion, similar to the pendant of Andraste Leiliana wore, though this one was larger. He tucked it inside his armour but Eirik had nothing else to offer. A cackle and a grin from Zevran as he reappeared, a small silver bar in his hand, but no sign of Genitivi. Until a surprised Oghren, leaning on a poorly constructed brick wall, gave a shocked cuss and nearly fell into a hidden room as the wall slid back. Dain went in wearily but quickly ushered Wynne in when he saw the unmoving body of the old man. Blue quickly bloomed but he found himself waiting by the door. Zevran and Leiliana had no such compulsions and moved in, well practised eyes flicking around the room for any sort of treasure or locked chests.

"Dain, this is Brother Genitivi."

Wynne's words were soft, and he knew that something was wrong with the man, the way his foot seemed to rest and the softer than soft demeanour that Wynne had. But nonetheless he knelt before the man, offering his hand.

"Ah, so it is you I have to thank."

"Do not thank me yet."

"Nonsense. If not for you, I would still be forced to listen to Eirik's sermons, to listen to him regale his followers of the deaths of the others who had come for me."

More of Redcliffe's knights sent to their deaths. Dain bowed his head as a few tears escaped Genitivi's eyes.

"Can you tell me of the temple he spoke of?"

* * *

><p>"Dragons! You know I can't almost believe it. But there we were, and dragons!"<p>

Zevran said, a grin from ear to ear, though earlier, thrown to the ground by a furious drake and nearly mauled to pieces, he had been less than impressed. Dain lifted a hand, all talk and movement stopping. He knew there was something ahead of them, something strong. But it seemed to be waiting for them, bit pressing forward but simply waiting. He strode forward into the huge cavern, heading towards the group, his own group moved up close to him, their eyes on the enemy in front. The man who led them looked strong, he had well worked armour and a massive battle axe on his back. And the same thing that had been in Eirik's eyes. Fanaticism.

"Greetings warrior. I am Father Kolgrim. You bear the spilled blood of Her Children. Did you think that there would be no retribution for your desecration."

His tone was angry, but not uncontrolled. And there was no physical move forward.

"Her Children? You mean the dragons?"

"They are Andraste's Children."

"I'm sorry, you think Andraste is a dragon?"

Alistair said, confusion not only coating his words, but dripping from his face. Kolgrim glanced at him but turned back to Dain.

"She is so much more than that! She is more glorious than all of the Old Gods combined!"

Dain frowned, he had seen a twisted Old God. Whatever Kolgrim spoke of would never be half as terrifying and as powerful as the arch demon was.

"You seek the temple, you seek out the ashes. But Andraste is Reborn, We are her Chosen. She has overcome death in a form more potent, more radiant than anything before."

"So they do exist?"

Morrigan said. Kolgrim snorted,

"They do. But you? Would you become her Champion?"

His eyes were hard, hard as flint. Dain didn't flinch under their directness.

"Why would I wish that?"

"Long we guarded her Ashes, but now – now she is Reborn. Take this, destroy the ashes."

He held out a vial, within something slid viscous and red. Dain had seen it's like before.

"What? You want us to desecrate the Ashes! Why are you, why would you…?"

Alistair grabbed Leiliana's hand, but she was a hair's breadth away from flinging him from her. Dain looked at the vial then up into Kolgrim's stone chip eyes.

"You offer me a title of Champion? But who am I? Who are you? I think that you are fools indeed if you think that Andraste has risen."

"How dare you?"

Dain was not done. He stalked towards the man, in a flash he had dashed the bloody contents of the vial to the ground.

"How dare you. Soon, you will be as dead as your fake Andraste."

"A rain of arrows will descend upon you, you will die!"

"Then pour them down Kolgrim, I have had enough of your dragons, your taverns and your words. Draw your weapon and fight me."


	36. Chapter 36 The Ashes of a Dead Woman

**The Ashes of a Dead Woman**

The smell of smoke and burning was acrid to his nose. It made his eyes flicker, but didn't rouse him. He could feel the sharp stones and jagged remains of something under his head, but it seemed so unimportant at the moment. It was only when sound returned with a rush and a near physical impact that he opened his eyes. There was the blur of rushed movement, and as the ringing in his ears subsided enough the yelling that the stillness of the heap of dragon flesh beyond should have remedied. With a groan he felt all the way to his cramping legs he levered himself from his prone position. The pain in his chest protested and made him wince, but with pure will he stumbled to his feet, spitting the blood from his lacerated tongue. Once up he surveyed with red eyes that before him. Oghren was prodding the dragon's teeth with the butt of his battle axe, frowning as he did so. Alistair was leaning heavily against Leiliana, a streak of blood on her cheek, though it didn't stop her from speaking and rapidly. Sten stood apart from the others, hands resting before him on the blade standing tip down. His eyes were closed.

"I must say, you put more of dent into the ruined wall than it did into yourself."

Zevran said, appearing suddenly into his vision. His reliable grin still on his lips. Dain focussed on the shorter elf before nodding.

"It being the tail?"

"Yes. I wouldn't have thought you would have flown that far. But there you go."

Dain managed to put one foot in front of the other until he stood next to Alistair. Both surveyed the animal before them. Dain managed to remember Sten giving Alistair an opening with a series of thundering attacks. It must have done the trick, for the back of the dragon's skull and spine was destroyed.

"I guess it gives us some taste of the arch demon then."

He thought, not realising he had spoken the words until Alistair answered him.

"And it doesn't seem to bode well, does it."

He snorted his laughter.

"Well, not with me in the corner blasted by the shock from its tail, at least you were able to put it down."

And that seemed to make bile creep into his chest and throat. He wasn't sure why. Dain looked at Leiliana,

"Are you alright?"

She got a smile out.

"Yes, the wings were the tricky thing. But I am glad there were more of us."

There was exhaustion on people's faces, he knew it was etched in his. But the entrance to the temple was close and with the dragon dead it was time.

"I will go to the temple, I put it to you who will come."

* * *

><p>Dain went first, moving through the huge stone halls. But all he heard were the Guardian's words, asking him the words that with the darkspawn haunted any sleep he managed to get. That yes he should have fought against his mother, made her come with him. Dragged her away. He closed his ears to whatever his companions said, seeing only the love in his mother's face as she touched his father's cheek, gathering her bow and arrows closer. The Guardian had not dropped his gaze until he had seen whatever he had looked for in his eyes before addressing his companions. And it had nearly broken his heart when he heard Alistair say that he should have died and Duncan been saved. It moved him enough to grasp Alistair's shoulder and lean in close,<p>

"_Brother, I couldn't face this with another."_

Alistair wouldn't meet his eyes but there was the imperceptible shift in his shoulders. Leiliana was indignant, refuting the call that her vision had been false, that she had made it up for attention. Wynne was calm and patient, even when the Guardian seemed to call her beliefs into question. But her answer seemed enough, for the armoured man just nodded and moved aside from the carved entranceway, watching after as the group moved through.

* * *

><p>The figure he seemed to glimpse only through his eye lashes seemed to shift with each breath he took. His feet felt leaden, though there was something in his heart that seemed to recognise the shape ahead. But as the shifting shape solidified his movement stopped and anything that had been keeping him strong was gone in the breath that simply fell from his lungs.<p>

"Father."

The spirit smiled as it saw him, lifting its head from something in its hands. The smile that shone from Dain was unlike anything the others had seen. Leiliana watched with the glimmer of tears as Dain stumbled into a run, only stopping a step from his dead father.

"It is good to see you again, Pup."

Dain looked at the phantom of his father. There was no sign of the mortal wound he had received, no blood stains and the agony that had been incised into his face the last night of his life. A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He had never realised how much he had loved hearing that nick name from his father. He thought that he had covered that wound in his heart.

"I'm sorry Father, that I wasn't able to save Mother, that I wasn't able to save you."

"You did all you could Dain, do not hold onto this."

Wynne said softly. He could hear the sadness in her voice, but he didn't turn. Instead he just studied his father, knowing this test was also an act of grace. This the last time he would see him ever, whether illusion or work of magic.

"You did everything I could ask. I wanted to send you Mother with you, but she did as she wished. She always did.

Dain wanted to reach out and touch his father's hand, but nothing seemed to work.

"You do us proud. Us Couslands, we always do our Duty."

Dain could feel the tears now start to roll from his eyes. His father watched them drip from his son's clenched jaw.

"Pup?"

"Yes, father?"

His voice sounded like a child's, and standing before his father it was how he felt.

"I love you."

With those words, the spirit offered something. Dain finally lifted his hand taking the cold metal pendant and then it was gone. The hall was empty bar he and his three companions. Air thundered back into his chest and his head bowed. He wanted to scream for his father, to not leave him. Not again. He would have fallen to his knees but for Alistair's heavy hand on his shoulder. Opening his fingers he looked at the necklace. It was beautiful and simple, as he looked at the single metal disc a known but fleeting face shimmered across the surface, then was gone. He turned to the others not wiping his wet cheeks, sliding the pendant around his neck, letting it fall under his armour,

"We aren't there yet."

* * *

><p>As soon as he opened his eyes, Dain was glad that it was over, the pressure of the trek to Haven and the Ashes done. A hand reached for the bag he kept next to his heart, even when he was in his armour. Inside the innocuous leather pouch, the potential to heal Eamon. Tiredness was something he had not quite learned to live with, but while his mind raged in wakefulness with the nightmares, his body seemed able to click into a semi rest mode. But in the two days since Haven, sleep or even the poor parody of it had proven more than elusive. But there had been something more, in that split second before dawn and he had flicked his eyes open, he could see still that last image of that terrifying dragon head turning to capture him in its great eye. Sweat had pooled around his eyes and was still wet on his face, sticking his linen shirt to his body. Dain took a deep breath, trying to picture the clean air pushing through his whole body cleaning out any taint that the arch demon had reared up in those frightening nightmares. One hand rested over his heart, the other surprisingly unclenched; he could feel the rapid fire hammering of his heart as he tried to calm down. As soon as there was a discernable deceleration in his heart rate he sat up and pushed the fold of his tent opening aside. There was the crack of fire and the slowness of the overnight smoke disappeared and the fresh tang of new fire reached his nose. Thumbing the sweat from his eyes and nearly falling over Grimm's still sleeping form, Dain found his feet and lumbered into the ring of the camp fire.<p>

Wynne sat tending the fire, the smell of breakfast now evident. She smiled a simple greeting and he managed to try and return it, failing miserably he moved to right a piece of wood and sit down. The nightmare was still in the forefront of his mind, its ghost layered over the fire he stared at. He sighed hard, this seemed something more, and it wasn't something that sat well with him. His shoulders were tight, even with conscious effort he couldn't release the tension, or hide it from Zevran as he appeared on the cut log beside him,

"Are you ok, mighty Warden?"

His words rang hollow when Dain turned to look at the elf. The elf's eyebrows rose as he looked at the man before him. Dark circles sat engrained deep under his eyes that seemed duller than he remembered, stress had engraved itself in the deep lines at each corner of his mouth. Bristles from his growing beard were dark in his skin and rasped sickenly as he rubbed them. As Dain breathed in to speak he hiccupped and barked a cough,

"You know Zev, I don't know."

Leiliana appeared, pulling at Alistair's arm, levering the other warden into the cool air. Alistair too looked shattered; as Dain caught his eye he knew that he had had that same dream. The arch demon, becoming aware. Of them. That terror and the release of finally securing the ashes had descended upon them with the power of a hammer. Alistair fell to the ground, Leiliana pulling him so he rested against her as she daintily sat. Wynne tsked over them both,

"Breakfast is nearly ready. Do you need…I'm not really sure, a poultice or healing? You both look awful."

Alistair didn't look up, he was already pale enough. Dain did,

"If we can get it down, and keep it down, the breakfast will be more than welcome Wynne. I think that the nightmares are getting worse. The sooner we get to Redcliffe the better, though I don't think today either Alistair or I could start that trek."

It pained him to say those words, but judging by Alistair's face and how he avoided looking at the breakfast Wynne had made, and the twist in his own guts…He took a careful breath through his nose, resolutely looking away from Zevran as the elf dug into his food.

After a quiet break fast, Dain decided that the porridge in the bottom of the pot did actually look good. With careful movements he stood and ladled himself a portion. He was glad that the others had sided with him about his doubts and outright unwillingness to camp in the now deserted town of Haven. They had stripped anything of use from the houses and the shop before following part way the tracks of Genitivi. The man had been delirious with the find of the Ashes. Dain had watched the man as he had moved off out of the temple, a hand touching the hilt of his dagger. Wondering if letting the scholar go with such news was the right thing to do. And then realisation of him actually thinking hard on throwing his dagger into the man to stop him, had him tongue tied and angry as they had descended the mountain. Now he studiously ignored the dagger he had slid into the waist of his pants.

His hand rose to touch the Oath and the pendant under his shirt, his other hand holding the plate of stodgy oats, his mouth chewing almost thoughtfully. So far everything since that night had been personal to him only as a Warden; it had affected him as Dain, but had yet to bring resolution as Dain Cousland. The pendant given to him by his 'father' had reawakened the last words spoken to him before he had fled. To do his Duty, as a Cousland, as his son and now as a Grey Warden. Even as he thought, the terror of the nightmare didn't leave. Dain had thought that he may have got used to the dreams, while he remembered them, once awake he could leave them behind, but this new one…this one seemed so much more real. Dain swallowed, looking down at the oats he thought perhaps it wasn't a good idea. But the growling in his stomach had other ideas and forced himself to eat the whole mess. Wynne and Leiliana looked at the two wardens, who at the present looked more alike than ever before. Sten was silent, as always and didn't seem too concerned, Zevran was mixing some noxious substance before the fire, Morrigan was at her own, Oghren syll comatose. But the Wardens sat heavily, elbows resting on their knees, their weight solid and spread, but not their usual focussed selves. Whatever they had seen and experienced in their nightmares had jarred the normally hard and stoic men more than ever before. Dain closed his eyes, trying to ignore the image of the arch demon that seemed burned into his eyelids and mind. Failing that he pressed his thumbs hard into his eyes looking instead at the flashes of light.

"Dain?"

Rolling his head to the side, and removing his thumbs he rolled his head to look at Wynne.

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

He sighed and rubbed his face hard as if it would help.

"Not really Wynne. I think it's one of those Warden things, where it is just something that we have to deal with."

"Duncan said that the Joining is worse for those during the blight. Maybe the nightmares are worse too, with the arch demon."

Alistair said without looking up.

"If you need to rest without dreams, I could make something for you."

Wynne said though she sounded dubious.

"We need to be aware, in case of an ambush by darkspawn, only we can sense them."

Dain said,

"Both of us don't need to be awake. Wynne make something for Dain. I can face this. You have been going hard for so long Dain, and you Joined during the blight."

Dain didn't nod but he was too tired to argue. Wynne seemed to have had something already prepared in her tent, soon she was back, a mug full of something. Dain took it without speaking, disappearing into his tent. It smelled bad and tasted worse, but he forced it down and lay down fully. Grimm wriggled closer, finally resting his head on his master's shoulder and wuffing before closing his eyes. Dain rubbed the blunt snout. It didn't take long, soon his eyes felt heavy and for a split second when his eyes closed there was nothing there and he felt like grinning, and then he was asleep.

* * *

><p>He was bleary eyed when he awoke, it took him several minutes to focus on the flickering light from the fire on the tent sides. Dain rolled, finding his feet and then managing to put his weight onto them. He took a deep breath, and then in an absolute instant he was moving. His shield and sword appeared in his hands and he was outside. Alistair caught his gaze, his weapons also ready.<p>

"Ambush!"

The attack was fierce and fought in the flickering light of the dying fire. The shuddering shadows hid so many enemies; Dain acutely feeling the lack of his armour as he spun defending terrible attacks. With a shouted word from Morrigan the glowing fire flared, and with a roar it was as bright as day. The spawn were led by a group of shrieks. It was a reflex action, that while saved his life, would have gone better wearing armour. Dain took the raking claws to his shoulder, he used the pain to keep his feet. And then used the blood in his own attack, feeling his heart race as the blood attack took its own toll on him. He swallowed the scream he wanted to sound as he continued to move his arm. The Shriek gave ground, his shield lashed out stunning the monster before with three fluid and angry blows had its blood flying as it fell to the ground. A cursory backhand took an arrow from the air, genlocks materialising out of nowhere. It was a furious battle, frustration helping to power Dain and Alistair's attacks, this time they had been truly taken in. Leiliana was firing arrow after arrow unerringly into the enemy, Morrigan sending fizzling bolts of electricity soaring from her staff and fingertips, Sten bludgeoned spawn while Oghren broke them under his axe; they fell around them like broken chaff. Zevran was flickering in and out of focus, zipping around the fast moving shriek and weakening them so Alistair and Dain could take them out. Adrenaline surged through Dain, all effects from the simple given him was gone and everything was in super focus and then the spawn were dead.

He was the only one not in armour, and it showed in the blood that was still flowing from his wounds, it had soaked through his shirt the wounds showing through the torn rents. When Wynne approached him he didn't argue but knelt, placing his weapons to the side, letting the mage assess his injury. But he watched her carefully, uncontrollably flinching away when her hands moved close to his skin. When she moved them to clean patch of skin her hands were cold. As always there was the brief pain as she summoned the healing and his skin was knit, the shredding scars from this other wound of his. Dain yanked the ruined shirt off and tossed it to the fire.

"Is everyone…else, alright?"

He said, scouting around the clearing he saw that all were whole and hale. They moved from the edge of darkness to take some sort of comfort from the nearness of others as much as the light given off from the fire. Alistair moved to him,

"It knows. Dain. It saw us and it knows!"

He offered an arm before yanking Dain to his feet.

"Yeah. Yeah it does. Maker save us."

The Wardens looked at each other, worry and terror in their eyes. Everything they had learnt since Duncan's death, the terrifying truth learnt in the Deep Roads and the truth about the brood mothers. While they hadn't really thought much, tried not to think about the blight and the true meaning of the arch demons. But here was so obvious an occurrence that the arch demon was so obviously aware of them, and so terrible a foe. And they would have to kill it. If it was possible. Dain rubbed his new scars, a new first, the first wounds he had received from a shriek. He ducked his head to look at the marks, suddenly finding it funny.

"Completed the set."

Alistair snickered. Then looking wide eyed at Dain he let loose a laugh, but he dutifully dropped his gaze to study the new acquisition of scars. Leiliana rolled her eyes, looking at the men who were prodding scar tissue and measuring with hand spans. Alistair shook his head at something Dain mumbled, pulling his gauntlet off so he could properly check the damage.

"Boys."

Wynne smiled a little, looking at Dain and Alistair suddenly oblivious of the bodies of the spawn around them, and the drying blood on Dain's skin. Zevran tilted his head looking at the wounds also,

"But very impressive, no?"

Leiliana smiled, noticing that Zevran wasn't really talking about the scar, but the well formed arm, shoulder and back that Dain was unintentionally flexing as he tried to look at something the other was poking at. Alistair wasn't far behind, his chest plate and other gauntlet falling to the ground haphazardly as he strove to show Dain his own scars. While the two Wardens thought it hilarious, poring over their scars, but for those watching, now including Sten, Oghren and even Morrigan who had joined the group, it was more sobering. It was impressive, their physical appearance, after so long doing nothing but hiking across country, fighting with little else. But the sheer number of scars were terrible evidence of what the two men had really been through and who they were. There were ripping scars, terrible claws, swipes from poisoned blades, bites from fanged teeth, puncture wounds from arrows, the list went on. Alistair carried a long and wide swipe following the curve of his ribs, Dain's near mortal double arrow wound was a mess of half healings and torn skin. But what mattered right now was that there were grins on Dain and Alistair's faces. Dain spat and wiped off some of the drying blood hiding a particularly interesting scar, twisting his arm so Alistair could whistle appreciatively.

"Do you think if I showed them my tattoos that they will be as impressed?"

Zevran said, moving over. Dain look up and smiled as the elf sauntered up, both Wardens looked interested as he drew off his breast plate until some hand gestures signified more, further down. Alistair turned bright red, Dain laughed, loud and hard. Even holding his sides, taking in Zevran's hurt look and Alistair unable to make eye contact. He wiped his tearing eyes on his inner wrists and sighed,

"I think any more tattoos will have to be up to our imagination Zev, but how about tomorrow you tell me how it's done."

"Of course, can I try to talk you into getting your own?"

"Sure."

Dain turned and grabbed the arm of a dead shriek, ignoring the black blood and disgusting wounds, dragging it to another, starting a pile of spawn dead.

* * *

><p>"Then the process is continued, the needle pressing the ink into the design. Sometimes the top layer peels, but the ink stays there."<p>

True to form Zevran had given Dain an in depth description of the art of tattooing.

"It does hurt, in some places more than others…"

"Let my imagination do the picturing ok Zev."

The Antivan barked a laugh, covering his mouth at the abrupt nearly awkward sound before letting the chuckle out slower and hidden. Dain snorted lightly.

"As far as I am concerned, it's a blank patch."

Zevran laughed again but nodded,

"So, have I talked you into getting your own?"

Dain rubbed his chin with his gloved hand before dropping it to his side, drumming the fingers on his armoured leg,

"Let me think about it."


	37. Chapter 37 Sleeping Beauty

**Sleeping Beauty**

It was such a different Redcliffe that they looked down upon. There was no acrid smoke settling over the village, the sound of the smithy was audible; there was even laughter. Dain felt content to look down upon the village. But even as he halted his steps, the Ashes under armour seemed to gain weight, threatening to bend him, straining at the cord around his neck. He looked to Alistair who was even grinning,

"This is how I remember it."

It was enough to push him forward, to take the first step towards the castle, and to maybe even healing Eamon.

* * *

><p>He hadn't asked to be present, but Teagan, Alistair and to his surprise Isolde, had assumed he would be. The others had quickly split to the rooms assigned them. Sten for now, seemed content to stand in the main hall, ignoring the rushing of servants and knights around him. Isolde was wrining her hands even as she looked at the mage as he took possession of the pouch. Her eyes widened and tears shone as she watching with the fervour and hope of a believer. But all Dain could think of was that the mage was sprinkling the remains of a dead woman over an unconscious man. It was morbid and gross, but he watched with the hope that he would not have to make the decision that could change Redcliffe's future. Even standing before the gauntlet, looking at the Guardian whose stare had looked as old as time…Before it had seemed straight forward, but now with the old looking Eamon lying motionless, Isolde with bright tears in her eyes and Teagan clenching his fist so tight his knuckles were white, he wasn't so sure. He didn't hear the Arl's first words when his eyes opened, as soon as he saw the head turn on the pillow the blood roared in his ears,<p>

"Alistair, stay here. He'll want to hear it from you."

The blonde nodded, with a cool nod to Teagan who looked at him with such thanks he was outside.

"Warden?"

Connor pushed up from where he had been sitting pressed up against the wall. The boy's eyes were red and swollen from crying. He stared up at Dain; he remembered nothing about the demon, the attacks on the village, it didn't change the fact the boy was a fledgling mage. But there was recognition on Connor's face as he looked at the man before him. Dain couldn't shift to a smile but he offered a nod.

"Connor."

"How come you didn't bring Bear?"

Even now after so long since Ishal, the loss of Bear still seemed to cause pain.

"Bear was killed at Ostagar. I found Grimm when I went back. I'm sure he's…around."

As if only speaking his name the clack of long nails on the stones announced the mabari's presence. Wynne must have followed through with her threat of a bath. For now he was cleaned of even kaddis. Splotches of white fur appeared through red. Connor grinned at the appearance of the huge animal, but as he turned back to Dain it was gone and his lip shook.

"They said Father is going to die."

Dain knelt, wiping the tear from the boy's cheek; so like Oren.

"I think you should go and see him."

Sudden and blinding hope appeared on his face, a smile spreading across his face.

"Really?"

"Go for it kid."

Connor wrenched open the door, it slammed shut behind him but not before he heard Connor call out to his awake father.

Dain knocked on the door, waiting for the mage to answer. She did, opening the door a smile on her face as she saw him,

"It worked."

He nodded, she opened the door fully, ushering him in with a hand on his arm. He entered falling heavily into a chair, she moved quickly to his side. Eyes already scanning him for injury out of habit.

"Are you alright Dain?"

He shrugged, but forced himself to answer.

"I thought that getting Eamon awake would make me feel…better. But it hasn't."

Wynne smiled at him, he recognised that look. He had seen it on his mother's face when he had seen Iona. It was a smile that showed him she understood him, and it was a little frightening.

"Dain, I think you were hoping that with Eamon awake, there might be a let up in pressure. I don't think that is destined to happen Dain, I'm sorry."

She wasn't ready for the resigned grin he gave as he stood though,

"Don't worry about it Wynne, I think I also expected that. Thanks anyway."

A servant directed him to his suite, bowing low. It surprised him, though as a noble born Dain knew it was his right. But for over a year he had disappeared into the title of Warden rather than anything else, he barely used his last name anymore, the title of Grey Warden more than enough, if it hadn't Warden Commander had been. His movements were coloured by sighs, fingers flicking at catches before he managed to pull the armour from his body, setting each piece on the wooden mannequin in the corner of his room. When he stood only in the rough clothing he wore under did he stand still, looking at the well worn armour, hitching a hip as he tried to understand something, anything from the rampant griffon on the chest plate. Not learning anything he drew the Reflection pendant from under his shirt and placed it on the mannequin, letting it sit on top of the metal. As Dain stared at it that familiar face shone out him; it seemed to smile, perhaps seeing something in the man before it before it was simply a chantry disc once more. He spun at the knock on the door, eyes automatically going to his sword, his dagger and the smooth narrow stiletto slid under the pillow; the hilt just visible.

"Um, Warden?"

The voice was female, and snaked through the door. Dain forced his shoulders to relax and strode to the door. He did recognise the woman who stood there, she had light blonde hair now tamed and smoothed, her face was hopeful and no longer tear stained, not like when he had first found her. Here in the castle trapped by the undead and terrified.

"Valenna, how can I help you?"

His reminisce of his oble birth seemed to stil he playing on his mind, for his bow as he gestured into the room was as good as one who had held court in Denerim. Valenna repied with a curtsey, flaring out her dress before stepping in gracefully. Dain spied the wine decanter on one of the side boards. A tilt of an eyebrow and she grinned,

"Yes, thank you."

He poured her one, then one for himself as an afterthought. Dain waited until she had sipped before prompting her,

"How may I help you."

She blushed, prettily, even trying to hide it in the second sip from the goblet. It seemed that she had forgotten her words, for after a few minutes of long fingers tapping on the stem she set it aside and stood, moving to look into the massive fireplace,

"I know that I have already said so, and my father too - but I wanted to thank you for saving my lady, Connor and the Arl. Without them I don't think that Redcliffe could have survived…so thank you for everything that you have done, and continue to do."

She turned, her hair catching the red from the fire. He hadn't moved from when she had awkwardly looked away from him. His untouched goblet sat on the stone mantel at his side. Her courage seemed to return though, for she looked at him properly now, now hiding behind a twist of hair or the manners of a maiden. As he looked her gaze changed, though Dain knew it was a response to the look in his eyes. But it was she who strode forward, her hands alighted on his cheeks, pulling him down with no effort so her lips could reach his. It was soft and delicate at first. Until his hands rose to her hips, sliding gently up and around to her back, pulling her closer to him. She tasted of plums or wine. Sweet, until her tongue swept along his lips goading for entry. That and the moan that started in her throat made him jerk, pulling her so tight to his chest. Her hands disappeared from his face, appearing under his shirt, nails tracing along his muscles causing his skin to pimple. It was his turn to moan he felt her lips turn up in a grin at what she had pulled from him. Dain was content to let her take charge, and she did. She pressed him back, he knew the bed was behind him, when his legs struck the end he fell fully. Valenna stood before him, her hands pulling her skirt up, flashing him thigh and pale flesh. She crept up the bed, her legs astride him, her lips already swollen from their heated kiss. She could feel the hardness of him as she sat, pressing her own covered heat against him, his hands rising of their own volition to rest on the bare skin of her legs.

"Don't stop now."

He said, she bent, kissing him carefully and nearly chastely, if it hadn't been for her hands, guiding his higher under her skirt. And then her gown was falling, undone in motions he hadn't seen. He pulled her arms free, her breasts gleaming with subtle sweat, the gown pooling around her waist, hiding their heat. With a wicked grin on her face she lifted herself; she didn't seem willing to wait, instead only drawing him free before settling her self, hard. It was sleek and hot, Valenna set the motion and speed. She opened her eyes, seeing the pleasure in Dain's face, she bent causing his breath to catch even further. They kissed hard, his hands sliding into her hair. The press of their joining caught at the material of his tights and the gown, smooth buttons grinding into skin. Their breath came harsh, slight moans coming from Valenna, but not enough, not yet for Dain. He slid his hands up her legs gripping her before pulling her harder, down onto himself. Now she moaned out loud, her hips speeding up. But he never gave up pressure, holding her hard onto himself, driving as deep as he could, his own hips moving in time with hers. He felt it building and with a sudden movement that took her by surprise he sat up pulling her legs behind his back, her hands on his shoulders helping her keep grinding against him. And then she exploded, he pulled her harder even savagely keeping her in the orgasm's grip and then his surged from him with jerking hips.


	38. Chapter 38 It's just like colouring in

**It's just like colouring in**

"You are really going to let him do this?"

Alistair said, but for all his protestations he had drawn closer rather than further away, perverse curiosity getting the better of him. Dain shook his head,

"I've had worse pain than needles in my skin and the scars to prove it. This time I get a mark, a memory that is a good one. Plus, if Zevran can get tattoos from his head to…er, feet? Then I can get one."

Alistair didn't answer but pouted his bottom lip out as if thinking.

"Plus, he said he asked you and you wussed out. This way I can beat you."

"It's not a contest!"

Dain laughed,

"Everything is a contest Alistair."

"Well I only lost because of all the massage he said was involved."

"If that is true, then I have a proposition for you."

Alistair looked at him carefully, unspeaking.

"Those words were followed by some unmentionable times when I was training to be a templar."

"Oh, if this is a sordid sex story Alistair. Please do not leave out any details."

Zevran said from the doorway, his hands filled with leather bags and a bottle of alcohol. Alistair's face went bright red, Dain laughed, the chuckling continuing as Zevran sauntered up. The men reclined in Dain's room, several chairs surrounding them commandeered from other rooms, as well as food stolen from the kitchens. A low table previously cleared was now filled with Zevran's tools, leather rolls rolled out to show their contents. Alistair gulped,

"See what you have got yourself in for?"

"You know Alistair if Leiliana knew you were going to get a tattoo she would find it sexy."

Dain smothered his grin at Alistair's new thoughtful look.

"I heard my name – oh are you getting a tattoo? I have seen it done back in Orlais, but not really up close. May I watch?"

During her speech Leiliana had appeared and moved inside, drawn up a chair, kissing Alistair before alighting in it and looking expectantly at Zevran before looking at Dain. He was sitting upright, leaning back against the wall topless.

"Just you?"

Before Dain could answer Alistair nearly ripped his shirt as he yanked it over his head.

"No no, me too."

"What by the Maker is happening? No wait I don't know if I actually want you to answer that."

Wynne said. She had been walking past the open door, but at the sight of the half naked Dain and Alistair's rate of undress had paused her steps.

"Oh please Wynne, do join us. You and your lovely…"

"Zev, please. I know this will fuel some of your fantasies, but I feel compelled to ask that you leave Wynne out of it. Please."

Zevran acquiesced with a bow, Wynne closing the door as she moved down the hall.

"What design are you getting?"

Leiliana asked, peering at the needles and vials of ink Zevran withdrew from the different packets of leather.

"Are you getting the laurels of the Couslands?"

Dain shook his head,

"No, the griffin of the Wardens."

"It will be a blue white and silver triumph. If I do say so myself."

"I did think of the laurels, but the Wardens are my life now. Duncan lost his last name when he became a Warden, so did I."

"Are you going to massage him?"

Alistair said, Leiliana punctuating his glowing cheeks with giggles. Dain started to smile, but then turned his head carefully to study Zevran. The elf looked to actually be thinking hard, and was currently staring at the expanse of flesh he had bared already. With a look that could only be described as rueful he sighed and answered,

"Ah, alas no. Dain and I have come to an agreement."

There was brightness in his voice as he suddenly smiled,

"But like he says the fantasies in my head are my own."

It was Dain's turn to blush and Alistair's to smirk. Ink bottles were unstoppered and the group watched in fascination and silence as Zevran mixed colours together, eyeing up the tracing done of the rearing griffon Dain had chosen.

"Right! Dain would you please recline fully."

Zevran's voice was an Antivan purr, Dain shook his head but shimmied down the bed lying down fully, Zevran placing the newly mixed pottles of blue and white on Dain's stomach, wiping an acrid solution onto his flat pectoral.

"Ready?"

"Do your worst."

As he saw the grin on Zevran's face Dain wondered he had actually said the right thing to the rogue.

* * *

><p>"And done. It looks very beautiful."<p>

Dain opened his eyes, Zevran wiping the reddened skin around his new tattoo with a wet cloth. It seemed to glow with the silver and white Zevran had used. He sat up, craning his neck to look at the mark.

"Are you ready Alistair?"

Dain looked up at Leiliana and Alistair, while the woman looked excited Alistair swallowed hard.

"You'll be fine. It's like something is scratching you hard. But you can ignore it after a while. Plus you've had worse sparring Lei."

Alistair stood though he still looked dubious, he offered his hand to Dain and pulled him up, taking his place on the bed. Dain reached for his shirt, pulling it on but leaving the ties at his throat loose as he poured a chalice of wine. His appetite had reared its head early into the tattoo, even with having had dinner only a few hours ago, but Zevran hadn't allowed him to nab something. And now he found himself swallowing voracious mouthfuls of bread and left over meat from the roast. A bitten off whimper had him looking at Alistair who was pressing himself into the bed, one hand clasped by Leiliana. He watched with a grin as Zevran smiled, seeing to take pleasure in the act. And perhaps it did, the mind of the elf was a…murky place. Setting himself on the edge of the table he watched in silence, hands still moving food to his mouth and back. When Zevran leant back to study his drawing he spoke,

"Will Eamon be up to talking to us tomorrow?"

Alistair turned his head, just capturing Dain in the corner of his sight.

"Yes, he said he would. But he wanted to know what had happened. Teagan and Isolde gave him the version of the castle, I gave him that of the village and the Circle. And Jowan."

Dain tossed the half eaten roll behind him, the chalice nearly slipping from the table as he didn't look when he put it down. He paced a little, thinking hard on the apostate mage before uttering nearly to himself,

"Jowan, Maker I'd forgotten. I'd thought to Conscript him."

As he turned to continue pacing, he saw the twin pale looks on Leiliana and Alistair's faces and he lost his words as.

"Eamon has already passed judgement hasn't he? Aeonar?"

Leiliana didn't manage to lift her gaze, instead just giving a little shake of her head. The rage that swelled this time was cold.

"He's executed him."

"He didn't think that the Templars or Irving…He spoke to Teagan about Jowan and made his decision quickly."

Dain was silent and still, Zevran had stepped back as Alistair had spoken, the needle still held in his hand. All three looked at his frozen stature, eyes turned away from them. But even though he didn't look at them, his menace was nearly palpable. Then Dain spun, nearly punching open the door and stalking out. It banged back on its hinges before smacking back into its frame.

Dain was furious, it followed behind him nearly a physical wake. Servants sidled past him, some ducking behind corners to not make eye contact with this furious Warden. Though he headed for Eamon it was Teagan who appeared first, surprised at Dain's appearance let alone the anger that seemed to shimmer off him. He didn't wear any sort of armour, nor a visible weapon. But his skin glimmered with a slight sweat. But it was the utter barely balanced fury in his gaze that caught him, especially directed at him or his brother.

"Evening Dain."

"Where is Eamon?"

"My brother is sleeping. Could I help?"

Teagan was surprised at the brusque manners of the Warden, his bearing as Bann reasserting itself. It didn't seem to make an impression.

"Jowan."

The sneer was obvious on Teagan's face.

"He went to his end with honour he didn't have when he was poisoning my brother."

"When he was ordered to by Loghain in the promise that he could return to the Circle."

"Your point being?"

Dain's gaze narrowed a little.

"Fairly obvious I would have thought. As Warden Commander I have the right to Conscript any person I see fit. I saw courage in him, whether or not he was a blood mage, to stand up for his mistakes and atone for them."

"You thought to Conscript him! You yourself were there when he stated that he was a blood mage, ready to use it again!"

Teagan's voice rose louder in his reply. An effort to combat the seeming effortless flame in Dain's, Teagan unable to cover his shock at the announcement of conscription.

"Being a blood mage is not an obstacle to becoming a Warden. Destroying the blight is paramount and having a blood mage in my arsenal is no problem. You and Eamon both showed a lack of judgment, letting your emotions get in the way of being a Bann and a Teryn."

"How dare you say that!"

"How dare I? Let me tell you something Teagan. In taking back Soldier's Keep I met a blood mage who had been experimenting on Wardens. His brothers. I didn't release him from his oath as a Warden because he was blood mage. It was his utter lack of fellowship with his brethren. To be honest I am very, extremely, tempted to state that Jowan was a Warden recruit and his execution was against me as Warden Commander."

Teagan's mouth fell open. Here was the son of Bryce Cousland. His diplomatic and political upbringing honed now as Commander of the Grey.

"You would do that?"

"Believe me I can. And more besides. I will talk to you and your brother tomorrow. But I cannot say that my anger regarding this will have cooled."

Dain didn't wait for permission or even for a reply from the dumbfounded Teagan, he spun and moved off, his bare feet thudding on the stones. Their words had been by no means quiet though they hadn't yelled. Eamon and Isolde had heard them as had Wynne. He didn't return to his room, instead Dain moved to the main hall, the fire here still roaring and more than warm enough. He slid down the wall, resting his back against a tapestry, resting an elbow on a knee. He released a slow breath, so glad that his anger had made him eloquent in speech and not with his fists. Then he realised that Eamon had passed judgement and had it carried out while he had been busy in his room with Valenna and his anger turned onto himself. Dain buried his face in his hands, pushing hard into his eyes.

"Dain?"

He glanced up, seeing Morrigan standing before the raised fire platform.

"Morrigan."

His voice was quiet with strained emotion. She moved up the stairs silently, curling up on the top one looking at him.

"Are you alright?"

"You mean you didn't hear that?"

He mumbled, his words heard earning a grin from Morrigan.

"I heard, but only because I was close. I didn't think that you would have been brave enough to Conscript the mage, turns out I was wrong."

"You don't say that often."

"What?"

He snorted,

"That you would compliment me and openly admit that you were wrong."

A nasty smile lifted one side of her lips,

"Oh, but you were doing something quite important."

His eyes narrowed, fury now aimed at Morrigan.

"I could smell her on you."

She sniffed delicately at the air.

"Morrigan I give you the courtesy of one warning. Get gone or I will not be able to help myself. I wouldn't mind seeing if Avernus was right, if it is possible to skin someone whole."

Dain wouldn't have been surprised if she had hissed at him as she stood and left. He slumped further against the wall wishing that he could have fallen into the stones. But he didn't and couldn't taking a deep breath he stood and simply stood before the flames warming his hands.

"_Is this what you meant father? This responsibility is bigger than even you could have thought. I wouldn't ever have been Teryn but as Warden Commander of Ferelden, granted that there are only two of us…But I cannot let this lie, it has taken a good man's life. Yes he fell from his path, but he was working to redeem it. I cannot let his memory be so tarnished. Loghain and Howe have ruined so many lives."_

Dain whispered out loud to his father, praying so hard to the Maker that he still couldn't bring himself to forgive, that he would reappear like he had in the cold rooms of the Gauntlet. But no looming spectre was forthcoming and he dropped his hands from the flames. There was no point in prolonging his return to his room, he left the hall and headed back up the torch lined stairs to the living quarters. When he opened the door Zevran's tattoo kit had been packed up, but all three were now sitting on the chairs set around the fire, each holding a cup of wine. They looked up as one as he entered and closed the door.

"Is Teagan still physically intact?"

Alistair asked Dain lifted an eyebrow but slid into a spare seat.

"Yeah, I only spoke to him."

"You were very articulate. I agree with your sentiment if that is of any importance."

Dain rubbed his head hard, stealing Zevran's wine and sculling a few mouthfuls.

"Thanks, but I don't feel so full of Commander quality right now."

"You couldn't have stopped Eamon from making his decision."

"Yes I could have. He couldn't stand against Conscription without making a very big deal and a very angry enemy. Instead he executes a mage, yes who did wrong and I had never shown any intention previous of Conscription but they got rid of him very quickly. He cannot talk to us tonight but he can send Jowan to execution."

"He is the Arl Dain."

"I know that Alistair, trust me. I understand that title very well. But he shouldn't have, he should have waited till tomorrow when he talks to me, us. We were the ones who fought for Redcliffe, made the decision to spare Connor for the chance to get to the Circle to send a mage into the Fade. Teagan knows now that the decision was folly, if he doesn't tell Eamon tonight then I will tell him tomorrow."

"But Jowan cannot be brought back, whether Eamon knows his decision was wrong."

Dain shook his head in agreement,

"No he cannot. Here is where I do not know where to go. I have the angry part covered, more than covered, but now I cannot alienate Eamon I need him too much."

Dain pulled on his lower lip, sipping slowly at Zevran's wine.

"I was going to offer my services as assassin, but I think that would cause more harm than good."

"You're joking about killing off my uncle?"

"In my line of work one must have a sense of humour, no?"

"I understand your position Dain. You must keep Eamon, but you cannot seem to be weak. Is there a middle ground that you can take?"

"I said that I could have Jowan instated as a Warden Recruit, now posthumously. I don't think it would make a difference to Eamon, but it would make a difference to how Jowan was remembered. Especially at Warden's Keep and in the records at Weishaupt."

Leiliana smiled,

"I think that it sounds like you've already made a decision. And it's the best one, in the circumstances."

"The only one you mean. But yes, you are right. Now I do remember this is my room, but Alistair could I speak to you a minute?"

Zevran picked up his gear, sketching a salute before leaving. Leiliana placed her chalice on a low table and kissed Alistair's cheek before waving to Dain.

"What's wrong?"

Dain brought in a deep breath,

"You haven't shown any at Redcliffe your relationship with Leiliana. Will you say anything tomorrow?"

It was Alistair's turn to inhale.

"I hadn't thought on it. Have any ideas?"

"No. But whatever you decide to say or not say I am right behind you."

Alistair tipped back his wine, swallowing all of it at once before leaving Dain alone. He turned a little in his chair so he could look at the armour on the mannequin. It was heavy and shone now, some servant had cleaned all traces of darkspawn blood and grime. In it he saw now the real responsibility of being not just a Warden but the Commander. And over laced with it the guilt of his time with Valenna and how it cost Jowan his life.


	39. Chapter 39 To Conscript or not to

**To Conscript or not to**

He awoke still in the chair, the chalice had dropped to the floor though it had been empty. The sheen of sweat from the nightmares becoming all too frightening, had wet his shirt. Dain pulled himself up from the chair, gargling some water from the ewer before dashing it against his face. Blood and some ink from the tattoo had stained his shirt, drawing it free he studied the mark against his heart.

Dain strode into the hall, Alistair at his back. Both wore full armour, even their fellows had their eyes on the two as they entered. In their heavy armour they made an impressive pair, their faces stern. Teagan leant to speak to his brother, while Eamon listened he kept his eyes on his nephew and this other one, the son of the late Teryn of Highever, the new Warden Commander.

"Good morning Dain, Alistair. I believe I have you to thank for seeing the dawn."

Dain inclined his head.

"Arl Eamon. I am glad that we were able to help and that you have found your feet."

Eamon kept his eyes on Dain; while he was the same man he had met before the battle of Ostagar, there was new hardness and strength before him. He saw the tiredness ringing those sparkling eyes. He remembered seeing the strain on Duncan that last time, here it was now on this younger man. And through his musing upon Dain he remembered his father. After the silence had become absolute he smiled truthfully and spoke again,

"Before we get down to business I wanted to thank you for what you have done for Redcliffe and for me personally. I have both my wife and my son as well as my life thanks to you, I am most grateful."

Even the Warden's voice was old. But despite stress, it was strong and decisive.

"You are welcome Arl, but it was not just I and the situation is still dire."

"Nonetheless, I wish to thank you. And bestow on upon all that follow you the title of Champions of Redcliffe and offer these shields, all knights of Highever carry them."

"Thank you Arl."

With his few words there was another pause, a deadening in the conversation here. It was obvious that Teagan had told Eamon of last night, if the man hadn't heard them.

"The mage responsible for my attempted assassination is dead. On my orders, as the injured party I was within my right to do so."

Dain's reply quick and somewhat damning.

"Then you knew that he was under the direction of the acting Regent to do so?"

Dain didn't let Eamon get any words in. He moved a few steps closer, gesturing to Isolde.

"That he was also here under the…invitation of the Arlessa. The Bann said himself that her duplicity allowed this situation to get as bad as it did."

"I never."

Came her accented response. Teagan blanched, but Dain only spoke the truth. He continued.

"Then you also knew that he made no move escape after being tortured, he offered to help whether through forbidden magic or not. He did not fight, he did not try to under play the hand he had in events. He did not try and flee, whether he would have been able to or not. And he entered the Fade and did battle with a demon."

Eamon's jaw was clenched, by now Dain knew that he didn't care if Eamon was furious at him, he knew what he wanted to say.

"Jowan was also to be a Warden Recruit."

Even the crackling of the fire seemed muted, there were gasps, but the only sign were the black oh's on faces ringing the room.

"You would have Conscripted him."

Dain nodded once,

"I would have. And planned to today. I thought a matter that could wait. I thought you would wish to speak to your family and have time with them before I spoke to you of my plans and the blight."

His unspoken words hung heavy in the room. Wynne watched, impressed at Dain and surprised that he would have wanted the mage in his company. Sten didn't move or batter an eyelid, he didn't like mages but he approved of Dain's stance. Dain's next few words made the sudden silence into dead silence.

"Apparently I was wrong."

Even Alistair's face blanched.

"You are in my home, you need to be very careful Dain."

"I am the Warden Commander, I have the right given by King Maric to Conscript those I see fit for the Wardens. Jowan was fit."

Dain could see that whatever response Eamon was about to give was held behind his teeth.

"You took a Warden Recruit not just from me, but from Ferelden when all are needed. I understand the predicament you were in, I understand the predicament that we are all in with the darkspawn and the Archdemon. Jowan and his status will be entered into the records at Weishaupt."

"How?"

"I have posthumously Conscripted him. If there is any issue then I will deal with it. But now, we must speak of the next steps for after we have fulfilled the treaties and you are present."

It was a bit of an abrupt change from the dirge like theme of the conversation, but Eamon seemed to welcome it.

"Both Teagan and Alistair have spoken to me a little of these treaties. But Loghain has the Queen, for the Landsmeet to side with us then we need to come forward with a better candidate."

Dain didn't dash a look to Alistair, but he knew where Eamon was looking for one.

"Teagan and I as Cailan's uncles are eligible, but would be seen as grabbing for the throne with strong arm backing from the Wardens. We need to offer someone with Theirin blood. We need Alistair."

"What? Me? Why?"

"As Cailan's half brother you carry the Theirin line. The last of the line. The thing that we fought for against the Orlesians to save. Do you not want to stop Loghain, do you not want to save Ferelden?"

"And if Alistair doesn't want this last name?"

"I do want to help, but I am a Warden now, wouldn't it be seen as putting a Warden on the throne?"

"The Theirin name is what is important. We cannot risk splitting Ferelden, so we must unit it with Theirin blood. Will you help save Ferelden?"

"No…I mean. Yes. Yes Ser I want to but…"

"Very well. With this sorted and the treaties all fulfilled, I will call a Landsmeet. Loghain may not want to listen to me, but he has to bow to the stance of the Landsmeet."

Now Dain turned to Alistair, the man had high colour in his cheeks.

"_Remember I'm with you Alistair."_

Eamon saw Dain turn to speak to Alistair, but could not make out the words. Leiliana standing close to Wynne offered nothing, her face was blank. Dain waited for a nod from Alistair before turning back to Eamon.

"We must find the Dalish. It is the last treaty, with that we can head to Denerim and the Landsmeet."

"There has been hushed word of their land ships being seen in the forests of the Brecelian, but these reports are tentative at best."

Teagan offered, Dain nodded.

"Then we go to the Brecelian. We can not afford any delay."

Without waiting for a reply from either brother he half turned, including Alistair and those of his group further away,

"Ready yourselves, we head out in within the hour."

Dain turned back, giving a nod as his permission to be dismissed and walked away. A rough whistle and Grimm sprinted after him, nudging aside Alistair so he could trot alongside his master. Eamon looked at Teagan, an eyebrow raised in question, but also in his recognition of Dain's ability.


	40. Chapter 40 Alone with Morrigan

**Alone with Morrigan**

It was an action that reminded him, despite how the others looked at him, that he was human. Dain contemplated the mirror, avoiding the reflection in its small surface. Sighing he leant closer, focussing on the bristles growing from his chin and cheeks. It had been sometime since he had shaved and it showed. He had the stream and the small water hole to himself, the others had avoided him once they had set up camp. His thoughts had become darker as they had headed towards the Brecelian, perhaps they had started to show on his face. But here even in the cold water, he felt pleasure as he dunked his head under the surface, ignoring the goose bumps and the odd shiver. Moving slowly to the bank he stood waist deep in the water, the mirror propped up on the rock overlooking the water, beside it the sharp blade and rough soap he would use to do the deed. It required a calm hand and light. The latter was disappearing with the growth of twilight, despite the small torch he had brought with him. With a sigh and deeper frown he splashed his face and started to try and work up a lather. It was only when he touched the cold steel to his soap covered cheek that the one who had been watching from the trees spoke.

"Would you like a hand?"

Perhaps it hadn't been a smart move. The knife was tossed underhand and sent to the speaker in a blink. Dain vaulted to the overhanging rock and his hand went to his sword. Until the flames flared in her hands. She didn't look impressed, less so when she looked at the knife imbedded in the tree next to her. But Dain didn't look or feel sheepish, instead there was a barely muffled curse before he moved back into the water. Morrigan watched unashamedly as he slid back into the water, not dulling the flames. Dain let the curse pass his lips as he saw that in his haste to confront his 'attacker', he had knocked the mirror into the water. Morrigan simply smiled, yanking hard at the knife and approaching him,

"Would you?"

Dain looked at the witch, somehow he felt that she had heard his thoughts of before. Of feeling finally human once more. But he swallowed and nodded. If he tried to shave with no mirror it wouldn't be long before he had a cut throat. Morrigan smiled and moved to sit daintily on the edge of the rock, Dain moved closer, flinching a little even as she moved to re-lather his cheeks. He didn't see her smirk as she touched his face.

"You looked very serious before. Squinting at yourself in that mirror. Pray, tell me what you saw."

Dain didn't open his eyes, but his brows rose.

"I saw myself."

He felt her snort, air brushing against his wet face.

"Your face grew ever sterner, more so than usual, as we left Redcliffe behind. The others spoke of it."

This made him frown. But he added nothing.

"You worry that this treaty you will not fulfil? That you will fulfil it and you will have to brave Denerim once more?"

Dain didn't wish to say, to speak of the worries weighing so heavily on his chest. He concentrated on the feeling as Morrigan deftly wielded the blade, slicing the new beard from his skin.

"We are alone here Dain. You may speak of what troubles you."

"I fear that now, I am even less human than I was when I awoke in your mother's hut."

It came out quickly, but it didn't seem a catharsis.

"Less than what you are. I think the path you have taken showcases very much to the opposite."

Dain's face creased as he frowned further. She seemed to deliberately misinterpret his words.

"Morrigan. You were there. You know of what swims around in my veins. But now there is less inside that is human. I worry that I am now…"

"A monster?"

She gave a wry laugh, this time making Dain open his eyes to look at her. She continued to shave as she spoke.

"You speak to an apostate mage Dain. I have been the recipient of that title more times that I wish to count. But it is not all bad. Perhaps that is what they mean to do when they turn you into Wardens. To create monsters to battle the monsters."

He didn't like it, but there was a sense in Morrigan's words. He would always be this now. A Warden, no longer quite human. Morrigan dipped her hands in the water, wiping the last traces of soap from his face. Watching his eyes as he seemed to think hard on her words. They flicked back to look in hers as she held his cheeks. And then she blushed, releasing his face but not moving from the rock. Dain let his knees bend and he dunked himself under the cold water. It was true. She did know of what he spoke. She had known what Avernus had written, knew what he had done to himself with blood magic. As he broached the water Morrigan had drawn up her knees and rested her chin upon them, her golden eyes still looking at him.

"You worry about no longer being human Dain. I can offer something, I do not deny that I will gain also something from it."

Dain shivered, not entirely sure that it was from the cold water. He said nothing, just looking at the witch as she spoke.

"I offer companionship. It is cold and lonesome in my tent."

"You desire company?"

Dain couldn't help but retort. There was sharpness in Morrigan's words.

"I have been in the company of men in the past. What I offer is not for the realm of love and ballad. It is practical. You wish to feel human. I wish something other than a blanket to keep me warm."

Dain, at the beginning, had looked at Morrigan as a woman. He could not have looked at her in another fashion. She was beautiful, oh so aware of it. But also deadly. As they had journeyed he had seen her as useful, a tool yes. She had saved his life often, he had done what he could for her when she had asked him to save her from Flemeth. And now, with this offer, he could not help but look at her once more as a woman. Her dress, or lack of, showed her curves, the round of breast, her glowing eyes that did not blink as he looked at her. And then in a heart beat he knew that she had trapped him, a smirk lifted her lips. She had made him look at her as a man, as a woman. As human.

"I do not know if it is right."

It was a weak argument, Morrigan gave a soft laugh.

"Right? Leiliana and Alistair share a tent as we speak. Oh, and there can be pleasure if it is not done…right."

He couldn't have stopped the flush on his cheeks as much as he could have stopped the reaction she had stirred in him. She had him, he knew it, she knew it. He didn't move though. Instead his eyes fell, alighting on the ties of her clothing, cultivating a plan of undress before he had even drawn near. It was his turn to smirk as her cheeks darkened. To cover it, she stood quickly, moving backwards off the rock, not losing his gaze. Dain took her given ground, moving from the stony waters edge to the dirt of the forest floor. Now Morrigan felt a flush of fear, she had forgotten in her baiting, the physicality of the man, without her magic she was nothing. But even as she took in his muscles, his sheer presence, she knew there was no menace here. Then she realised she wanted this.

He had thought her to be sharp, as pointed as her barbed words. But she wasn't. She was soft, her flesh filling his hands, warming to be hot like his skin. She didn't press her lips to his, but she arched backwards as he kissed her throat, feeling the purr she gave deep in her throat. Her hands caught at his shoulders as he pressed downwards, fingers finding those ties, those clasps. Her slight clothing falling to the ground at their feet; soon she was as bare as he. The twilight was gone now, only the bare glow from the forgotten torch by the water. It shone on curves of body, the wetness of tongue and lips. Morrigan did not need it to see; Dain used his hands and mouth. The tree trunk was rough on her back, Morrigan swallowed the gasp she gave at the contact then forgot it in the instant Dain sheathed himself inside her.

Dain entered the camp, flicking aside the entrance to his tent open before disappearing inside. Grimm leapt up from his doze by the fire and nosed his way inside. Morrigan was a shadow to most as she moved to her own camp fire. Zevran saw the glint of her eyes as she moved in the periphery of his vision. He knew, of course he knew. He looked at Alistair, oblivious to everything bar the woman beside him and the food cooking on the fire. The elf sighed and spat on the whetstone, his imagination retracing the steps of the mage and the Warden, glad for once that the fire did not light his face to the others.


	41. Chapter 41 Towards the final treaty

_Yes, this is a reposted, fixed chapter after a bang on comment from Noobody (yay you!) I hope this manages to convey more of what I wanted it too. Hopefully. It should. Yeah. Right. Thanks for rereading and it does what it is supposed to. Right, onwards!_

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><p><strong>Towards the final treaty<strong>

Alistair was chattering. Dain wasn't sure but he had never really thought that Alistair did that. Chatter. It wasn't about he and Morrigan. Her disappearance and their return. It was about Eamon, or more his miraculous return from the dead. Dain didn't feel like correcting him in that it had been a long effort and mission to return him from the coma he had been in sliding towards death. It would probably have been swept aside as an unimportant detail. Disguising the sigh as just a deep inhalation Dain turned, catching Wynne's eyes. She was on the periphery of the mini group that he and Alistair were, far enough to not be an instant part of the mostly one sided conversation, but close enough to hear Alistair's words. She offered a smile, but other than that she didn't seem interested in saving him from Alistair's chatter. Feigning a stretch he looked at the others, Leiliana next to Zevran,

"…and then the Haven Chantry. You know just once I would like to walk into a place like that and discover a lively dance, or lo! a drinking festival. Or an orgy. But alas, no."

The sparkling laughter Leiliana gave at the elf's words was the thing to break Alistair's words. He turned too, finally slowing to join their group. Dain sighed, looking back ahead, Grimm scampering up the trail showing no hint of danger.

Zevran smiled at Leiliana, at Alistair's stumbling adoration. He saw Morrigan, her vixen eyes on their armour clad leader. Changing his direction he let himself range to her side.

"I see your friendship with the Warden…goes very well."

Her eyes slowly to him. Her voice was as hard as ever.

"And is there a reason you say this with a smirk, elf?"

The smirk widened into a true smile. A knowing smile.

"Oh, I think you know. You and I are apparently not as dissimilar it appears."

He leant towards her a little, her backing off.

"I know what you are doing, lovely woman."

A slim brow rose, her eyes calculating.

"And what is it that you think I am doing? Besides the Warden that is."

A nonchalant shrug lifted his shoulders, but he let his gaze slide to Dain. Appreciation lit his face as he let his eyes roam the man's figure, easily able to imagine that form underneath. Morrigan sneered.

"Oh, naturally biding your time of course. Hmm, but for what I wonder?"

Her reply was harsh though quiet.

"Who do you not ask him then, if you are so curious?"

Zevran seemed loathe to break his focus but did slowly,

"I doubt that even he knows. However, I am content to wait and see for myself."

"Then do not bring it up again."

She moved obviously from him. It was a poor retort, this physical showing of her back. It only made the elf grin.

Lothering was gone, swallowed up by the tide of darkspawn. Their trek took them close to the destroyed town, Dain finding himself eager to pass that reminder of the destructive nature of the spawn. Or was it because it was such a terrible reminder, such terrible evidence of the enemy they faced while the civil war between the bannorn and the Regent waged on? He hoped that the ferocious majesty of the Brecelian would hide something less…tainted. Even that word was linked to the sludge he could imagine in his body. It was strange that he only felt safe when Morrigan healed him, that he would sully Wynne, even possibly kill her. But Morrigan, the mage was different. The flash of last night overlaid the image of road and mabari in front. Her gasp, the warmth of her body beneath his. And the ending, the affirmation of being man, once more. It had faded as the glow of completion had. That grasping of that feeling, sliding away. They had parted with no words; he didn't know how her trembling legs had her nearly stumbling. She had said she did not wish for love; there had been passion, but he knew there was no scope for love. On her part, or his. Like his time with Valenna, it had been a release.

"You sigh heavily Dain. Would you like to talk?"

Leiliana appeared at his side, a bright smile on her face. Despite his thoughts of the instants before, no blush flushed his cheeks,

"No Lei. I have nothing to say."

He lifted his head, but did not push her away. But neither did he speak again. As Leiliana watched she could see the frown pull his mouth further down and that crease between his brows grow. There was no pulling him out of the mode he was in now. Part of her wanted to call it a funk, but she knew that was far deeper. Far more than just a feeling that would pass. For all that she knew of what Alistair went through, even he had explained how much harder it reportedly was for those who Joined during a blight. Dain was young, younger than her and than Alistair, and the responsibility of Warden Commander, of ending the blight, lay squarely on his shoulders, however broad and strong they seemed to be. All she could do was be a useful and benevolent presence. Leiliana pulled herself from her thoughts and had to be content with observing Dain out the corner of her eye.

* * *

><p>Dain frowned, the map held loosely in his hands. He sat on the ground, knees bent before him, staring at where he would have liked to be when night had fallen, and where he reckoned they actually were. He knew that the Brecelian was not a place he wished to enter in less than full light, but they could well enter the outreaching edge nigh on twilight the next night. He frowned harder. Zevran who had been moving to sit near the Warden deviated and sat across from him instead. Wynne watched him unhappily as she tossed the dried meat from Redcliffe into the pot, wanting to talk to Dain, but a little frightened too. Grimm had no such compulsion and dove into Dain's lap. Dain simply dropped one hand to play with the drooling mabari's ears, the other holding the map up so he could continue staring hard at it - as if by the force of his gaze he could shift the camp closer to the Brecelian. It was only when the shadow of Wynne with a bowl of the stew loomed over him that he folded and put the map away.<p>

"Thanks."

It was the first time he had spoken since earlier that morning. Wynne smiled happily and sat next to him, frowning now at the mabari who watched with uncanny focus each move of her spoon from her bowl to her lips. Dain looked at the others, Oghren punctuating each mouthful of food with a scuff from the leather skin at his side. Alistair was whispering to Leiliana, the bard even blushing.

"Leiliana, you are I are first watch. You can wake Alistair for the next. Sten?"

"Kadan."

Alistair looked up from his meal,

"What? Why?"

Dain spoke around the piece of meat in his mouth,

"Everyone else gets something thrown at them."

Alistair looked at Leiliana who smiled but nodded. He wilted a little.

"Morrigan took two watches before Redcliffe, so Oghren, you and Zev?"

"What! Yeah, sure."

Dain winced at little but with that sorted he stood, reaching to scoop another bowlful, but moved off towards where the watch would take place. Grimm trotted after his master, Dain's hand still flicking at those flopping ears. Leiliana placed a kiss on Alistair's forehead, picking up her short swords she strode after Dain.

"So, is it getting more awkward?"

Zevran said, putting paid to how everyone else felt. Sten simply closed his eyes where he sat, removing himself from the conversation. Wynne simply picked up Dain's bowl,

"He is under a lot of pressure."

Morrigan watched from her camp fire, sure that he would come to her after his watch.

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><p>He had scouted around the camp four times in the last two hours. When he had returned to his starting point, Dain had had to contain his fidgeting as memories of that ambush set up by the Arch demon surged in his mind once more. As he looked carefully around the area he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Part of him knew that the eyes were in his mind, the demon watching out from his own eyes. It would press at him until he stood and moved around the camp once more. Moving towards Sten, it took only his flickering shadow passing his tent to have the Qunari flicking back the opening. Dain managed a nod, watching the Sten move away, his massive sword held so easily in one hand. The stamp of marching spawn feet moved in unison with Sten's steps. Dain dug a hard finger into a soft pressure point on his hand, using the pain to force away that imagining, those thoughts. He had left Grimm behind; the mabari had been sleeping on his feet. The mabari had awoken as he'd moved, but had seemed happy enough to keep a stumbling Alistair company. He thought he'd enjoy the silence, especially after Leiliana had tried to drag him into conversation; eventually falling into a natural rhythm of words that hadn't required any reply or recognition. His tent flap was open, but before he disappeared into it, he turned his head to look towards Morrigan's camp fire. There. The double pinpricks of her eyes were on him already. Dain found himself turning and moving towards her without seeming to have made a decision.<p>

Morrigan smiled, sitting up from her bed of furs, already naked, her hair loose. He had not seen her so, vulnerable before. The simple act of releasing her hair…Her skin was luminous against the darkness of the animal skins. He hooked his hands in his tunic and drew it from his body, kneeling and gathering hers to his in a single motion. Breathing deep her hair, as if he could find grounding there. Was it enough that he could forget the dark spawn in her arms? Anything to push away that menacing arch demon that seemed burned into his mind. Morrigan smiled, hearing the deep breaths he drew in, nose pressed to her dark hair. But as her fingers gripped his shoulders, as her back arched, she couldn't help but think that the glow in her chest was for something more than a binding.

Leiliana watched Dain deviate from his tent, moving instead towards Morrigan's. She had seen the witch looking at Dain all evening; catching quick looks that she had ignored as they had walked. Leiliana didn't know why she felt not interested but almost a little annoyed at Morrigan's interest. She had used her wiles like Morrigan had, years ago it felt, to snare another; but was this different? Was it different because it was Dain? Because he was a Warden? Or, for some other reason. As she watched, white arms rose from blankets to hold his shoulders. Now Leiliana turned her head, entering her and Alistair's tent. The blankets were still warm from her lover's slumber, she burrowed inside them. As she closed her eyes she couldn't help but wonder at Dain's judgement.


	42. Chapter 42 The Brecelian

_I finally FINALLY got DA2 so I have been playing that around assignments, so the eventual nature of this chapter. I also found myself skipping ahead to other stuff. But here is the start of the Brecelian story bit. R and R my brethren._

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><p><strong>The Brecelian<strong>

"Just in case anyone didn't know, I am a city elf."

Leiliana tried to blow a strand of red hair from her face, but it stayed stuck to her skin with sweat. Biting her tongue she settled for glaring at Zevran's back. The few trees that had risen around them had become a forest that was dark and foreboding in a few bare steps. There seemed no path, even the trees seemed to lean in closer to those who tried to penetrate further. Zevran moved slowly through the foliage, the others following behind. Even he had voiced his opinion on being the one leading the group. Dain gestured the heavy armour he and Alistair wore, the slender elf didn't wear anything half as heavy; plus he moved the most light footed and catlike out of all those who followed. It wasn't enough to have many minds changed.

"Do you have any idea where you are going?"

Alistair said, angrily slashing at an intruding fern frond, his face wet with sweat, red with a little frustration. Zevran turned to look at the man, he was at the front of the group, but he merely grinned. Dain was expecting Morrigan to offer a pointless but somehow enlightening comment, but as something bumped past his leg he looked down. A familiar looking wolf trotted close to him, it turned its head, tongue lolling out in a vulpine smirk. She had the right way of it, it was probably the perfect form to try and navigate the forest, other than that of a dalish elf. Oghren kept up his running commentary of the forest and how pointless it was further down the end of the group. Wynne was silent as she used her small knife to trim leaves and dig roots as she walked. They had all come; being the last treaty seemed to have stirred them all somewhat. He was glad, but wasn't sure if they found the dalish, what they would think of this motley group even if they were led by Grey Wardens. Zevran stopped, everyone coming to a halt behind. Dain wiped his forehead with a glove and moved up to the elf,

"Anything at all?"

"No, but I have an odd feeling."

Time and several experiences had taught Dain that Zevran was good at what he did, if he felt something there was something there. He reached for his sword, eyes scanning cautiously for something, anything that was dangerous.

"I do believe I know what you mean."

Morrigan, no longer in wolf form, didn't look angry merely interested at the dalish that had surprised even her. There were several, all had their arrows to strings, aiming at them. Dain wiped his face again and moved to stand in front of Zevran. His movement garnering all attention and more than a few arrows changed targets.

"I am a Grey Warden. I am here to speak to your keeper, to honour treaties forged many years ago."

"How can we trust that?"

A female well tattooed elf barked out. Dain merely lifted an eyebrow.

"You get many _shemlen_ trying to convince you they are Wardens then?"

It made his own group smile, the closest Dain had got to humour for some weeks. Eyebrows from the dalish and those who had lived with elf and human animosities had risen at the derisive term, and the fact that he would know it let alone use it.

"Then I will take you to the Keeper, and he can dispose of you if you tell a lie."

"Then we are getting somewhere. After you ma'am."

Leiliana's giggle was covered by Alistair's cough, though his cheeks were red with suppressed laughter at the quick exchange.

* * *

><p>The camp that they were led into smelt of illness. Wynne's brow furrowed, as a healer she seemed more in tune with sickness and the taint of it than the others. But evident especially to the hardened warriors was the smell of blood and death. Dain frowned, but kept following the shorter dalish woman. The elves who watched them move through the camp looked either older or were children. It gave more information about the clan they had found and the stench of death that hung over it.<p>

"Mithra, why have you left your post?"

A bald elf with intricate tattoos on his face moved towards them, for now the angry looking face looked sternly at the scout, she bowed, this was evidently the keeper.

"Andiran atishan Keeper. I found these _shem_; he says he is a Grey Warden. I thought it was best if I brought them to you."

The keeper deigned to look at them only when Mithra gestured to them. Dain felt his weight shift to the balls of his feet, but he made to move. Instead he returned the frank and weighty stare. The older elf finally spoke, not turning his head away when he did.

"Of course, thank you Mithra. You may return to your post."

"Ma nuevenin Keeper."

Against she bowed and moved away, leaving the group with her Keeper.

"So the Wardens come. I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, its guide and preserver of its lore."

Dain gave a noble bow,

"Greetings Zathrian, I am Dain. Both Alistair and I are Grey Wardens."

Dain gestured to Alistair, the blonde nodding, before looking back to the elf.

"We come for aide, the treaty signed by your people promising that you support us in the event of a blight. That time has come."

"I know what it written in those scrolls, know of what it promised. But I cannot aide you."

Dain didn't move, he didn't speak. He knew there was more. Zathrian sighed,

"An affliction is rife in the camp. Werewolves attack each night, the hunters who survive become tainted and turn."

He waved behind him, between some aravels were sick cots, the moans of wounded elves could be heard. Not only the heavy smell of blood but the smell of dog.

"Why do they attack you?"

"They are led by a wolf named Witherfang. They seek to destroy the clan. I cannot promise aide until it is dead. I will have its heart."

The Keeper's words were spoken with near manic vehemence. He had heard that tone several times, and his back was against this man, even if it seemed that he only wished to save his clan. Dain asked the obvious question.

"Its heart?"

"It is the only chance for a cure."

Dain's lips pursed and he turned. Gesturing to Wynne, she abandoned her hushed conversation and came to his side, Alistair moving up too. Dain sighed and just looked at Alistair. A grin grew on the man's face.

"Who would have thought it eh? Another person who needs help."

He said, Dain shrugged.

"It does seem to be a continuing theme. Wynne, what do you think?"

"Of?"

"Werewolves. Can you help?"

"The question really being, whether he would accept aide."

"I think that if he expects me to go after this killer wolf that seems so far impossible to kill, then he will take the aide of my healer."

"Yours?"

Alistair didn't think that Wynne had maybe actually meant to say anything, but there was no pulling it back. Dain's expression didn't change.

"Of course. No one would expect you to be actually keeping eye on him."

"You don't trust him then."

Dain shook his head,

"I don't trust anyone. Apart from Alistair."

He said, looking at the other Warden. Wynne frowned and when she looked at Alistair, he wasn't blushing. But seemed to have already known it.

"Why not?"

"I don't think that it's really the time for psychoanalysis from a senior enchanter now the healer. A healer for a group of two wardens, an angry Qun, an apostate, a very and perpetually inebriated dwarf, an elf who thinks with the junk below his waist and a bard with a murky past but a distracting accent. Let me rephrase this whole conversation. Wynne you will help Zathrian with the hunters that haven't died during this chat. Those that do not come with me into the forest to find this animal, will guard against any werewolves that will attack them tonight. Got it? That was a rhetorical question."

Dain didn't wait for any reply, instead he moved back and to Zathrian. The keeper looked pained, the vallaslin looking stark on his face; a lack of courtesy permeating his being.

"It is decided. We will find this wolf for you, when we have its heart you will make good on the treaty."

Perhaps whatever Zathrian had been ready to hear, it had not been such an offer of aide.

"You would help us?"

"I would. Wynne is a skilled healer, she will help you with the hunters who are stricken. Perhaps few will succumb before we return. But I will need some supplies. Then we will enter the forest."

Zathrian seemed stunned, but regained his composure.

"I will have Master Varathorn put aside some goods. He may also have other useful equipment. I do suggest you leave at dawn, the night is a dangerous time to be away from others. Dain, do not take the Brecelian lightly, it is more spirit than reality."

He turned, disappearing towards the injured hunters. Dain turned and with a look to Wynne she swept after him. He ignored the swift look she returned him and looked at the others.

* * *

><p>Night had permeated the trees around the camp so fully it seemed a solid barrier around the lanterns and fire, but Dain had managed to find a few minutes for himself. Away from people, away from noise. And he had found it with the elves. He wasn't really sure whether they were afraid of him and that was why he was avoided, or they realised that within him was turmoil that could only be tamed by quietness. The white deer the dalish called the halla seemed to sense this as well. But they moved slowly, regally strode to the wooden fence, offering long furred noses to be stroked. Their horns towered over him, ornately carved by their keepers. It made him sigh and finally he could feel the slow relaxation of muscles that he hadn't been able to loosen up. The halla didn't make any sound, they didn't bleat or grunt. They were silent, great dark eyes with long lashes swept down never really taking their gazes from him. The smell of the forest was strong, the sound of birds and insects, the crop of grass as the deer ate. But always the tang of painful death from the hunters back in the camp. Dain stroked the deer's ears and turned back towards the next task, and at each step away from that small sanctum the heaviness of his task returned. A few elves still sat around the fire, Leiliana sat there too her lute in her lap the sound of her music barely seeming to cover the sound of the burning fire. He stood just on the edge of the fire light, content to watch those who sat within it. Slowly the elves moved, retiring to their aravels, Leiliana taking Alistair's hand and moving to their own sleeping mats. It was only when the seats were all empty Dain moved to sit on the ground, his sword next to him, his shield near by. He knew there would be no sleep tonight, though it strained at the corners of his eyes. In that same place the image of the arch demon's glowing eyes flickered coming closer as he blinked. As he listen to the night noises for any sign of attack or distress his shoulders grew more rigid and set. It was like he had never breathed the lightness of the halla.<p> 


	43. Chapter 43 Nature of the Beast

_I apologise for the whoa type updating skills I have been showing. End of year assignments and exam study have been doing me in. But please enjoy the chapters I have done and please R and R!_

_Signed: The Lady_

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><p><strong>Nature of the Beast<strong>

"He is a powerful mage, though a little broken. Be wary Dain."

Morrigan whispered to him, leaning close. He had known the man was insane before she had warned him. But she was wrong. The man wasn't a little broken; the man had been shattered and had lost several pieces. But without Alistair and his templar abilities there was no quick way to nullify his spells. He turned to her, but spoke out the corner of his mouth to Zevran.

"Mage bane?"

"A little."

He gave a barely there nod and turned back to the mage, acknowledging him with a slight bow. Then it descended into chaos. After mumbling and speaking only in questions, Dain barely alluded to the acorn lost by the Grand Oak and the mage broke. With a strangled yell the mage seemed to conjure a dagger and with vicious cuts to his forearms the ground around him darkened. Dain darted a look to Morrigan for some hint, but then the smell of burn and the shimmer of heat sent memories of the tower rocketing back into his mind. His sword settled into his hand and as one of the rage demons pulled with taloned hands, itself free from the ground, Dain struck it with his whole weight behind his shield. Bark blackened and leaves wrinkled and fell from the trees and two more demons rose from the burning ground. The mage laughed manically, bolts of energy conjured from his hands. Until Zevran appeared behind him, the mage bane poison wet on his blade. Dain spun, the demon that had been reaching for him now crystalline pale, steam coming from its surface. He didn't think twice instead thundering his sword and shield into the frozen enemy. It was stifling hot, everyone panting from the heat not just from their sudden exertion. Sweat dried in an instant, eye lids were dragged down gritty over sore eyes.

"Zevran, down!"

Leiliana's voice rang out above the pants and clashing. Zevran did. A crash of lightning from Morrigan's hands scissored through the space where he had been. The elf leapt up, giving a deadly glare to the witch who hadn't seemed to notice. Dain took advantage of the destruction in the magic's wake and his sword slid through the blood mage's neck. Ice blanketed the ground, the blood melting it slightly.

"You nearly killed me."

Zevran said, still glaring at Morrigan. The witch ignored him, instead looking interestingly at the body of the mage.

"Morrigan."

She looked up as Dain spoke, a small smile on her face.

"Once was an accident. It will not happen again. If it does, you are gone."

"What?"

She stood, aggressive now, but her arms strangely crossed over her chest.

"You heard me. Zevran, Lei, check the camp. We'll take a breather then move on."

Dain ignored the looks from all three, instead ripping open the cloth over the opening to the smelly tent. It didn't look like the mage had slept there, instead it was filled with half rotten bones and decaying clothes. Dain flung the cover down and moved to Zevran who seemed to find the tree stump near the centre of the camp most interesting.

"There is something inside."

He said as Dain crouched beside him.

"Away you go then; you have the most experience putting your hand in dark wet places."

Zevran guffawed even as he slid his hand into the stump. Dain shook his head and stood, moving to Leiliana's side, content to stand in silence. The battle had been hot and ferocious; the trees around the clearing and the earth were all scorched. Bark had dried and peeled; the smell of sap sharp in the air. Dain shivered even though he was still sweating under armour, the memory of this fight against red hot rage demons now shelfed with those in the tower.

"I don't think she meant it. It was just something that happened."

Dain flinched back to reality as he realised Leiliana was talking to him.

"Huh?"

Red brows frowned, nearly touching before they rose once more.

"Morrigan. It was just happenstance."

"Probably. But I need all of you. You don't see just three of us fighting the werewolves, well winning anyway."

"Ah huh!"

They turned to see Zevran holding something aloft in success. He moved to stand before Dain, offering the dirty votive in a courtly bow. Dain took it, seeing now it was a large acorn.

"The Oak's seed. Excellent."

* * *

><p>It was heavy with the smell of dog and something else that Dain could not name. The atmosphere was oppressive and after several violent but short clashes with werewolves and the undead Dain was ready to storm back to the dalish camp. Instead he exhaled angrily through his nose and studied the sarcophagus before him. Everything there bore the echo of magic. The massive room where they had fought the horror had been laced with it, the magical spring and the large tomb, and now these unscarred sarcophagi. He felt like a grave robber, he had since they had entered these elven ruins, regardless of whether they had been claimed by werewolves, speaking werewolves.<p>

"It is magic."

Dain spun to see Morrigan at his side, a slim hand running over the surface of the heavy stone lid.

"What is?"

She smiled a little, letting her gaze alight on his for only an instant before it darted down to her hand once more.

"That smell. I imagine that you've smelt it before, at the tower. The stones here are riddled with it, as would be the stones of that awful phallic shaped tower."

Dain just nodded, rubbing finger between his brows, the niggle in his head a precursor to a full blown headache.

"Now you know what Ferelden smells like to me. Wet dog."

Zevran said, sliding into the conversation. Dain managed half smile. Zevran turned to the now unlocked and opened door.

"Ready?"

* * *

><p>Dain was pissed. Before him a naked woman stood, below her elbow her skin erupted into brown whorls of tree bark. Her eyes were black, a tiny circle of white her pupil. And despite her thoroughly alien appearance and her words which were less believable than one of Leiliana's bardic tales, Dain knew. Dain knew that she was not lying. Zathrian was and had been. The Lady of the Forest's eyes narrowed when she saw the sudden anger flare on the Warden's face. It had surprised her, he had been civil, if not even courteous to Swiftrunner and the others, had slain Danyla as she had asked him, offering a whispered prayer of passing at the dead elf's side that even her with her wolf's hearing she had missed. And now he had entered her sanctum, weapons were sheathed, no hands flickering to them. He had had many questions and had listened to all of the answers she had offered them. But it was only now at Zathrian's betrayal that emotion flickered on his otherwise stone face.<p>

Dain crouched next to Zathrian's body; even in the aftermath of battle and anger he could see the peacefulness that had finally descended upon the old elf's face. He had recognised the hatred that had caused all this, that had destroyed so many lives. Dain understood it, but those words, spoken quickly between Keeper and his creation had melted part of his heart. None had seen the tears that had welled in his eyes; he'd pretended it was sweat from the heated battle. Dain had been the one to catch Zathrian's suddenly limp body, letting the Keeper rest on the ground with more grace. He was light, as if his hatred truly had eaten away at him. Gone was any trace of the Lady, with the release of the curse she had gone in a flash of light, even as Zathrian had died. He didn't know what happened to elves that died, didn't know if they burnt a pyre like his people did. Looking to Zevran he gestured quickly. His friend gave a wince as he crouched next to the dead elf and Dain,

"Their dead? I think they bury them and plant over them."

There were no seeds, no saplings. But erupting from the floor and weighing heavily over their heads was a huge tree, far above them leaves waved and rustled in the breeze. Here it would be a good rest, Dain thought. He picked Zathrian up, moving to place him under the curvature of a massive root; crossing his hands over the staff he had wielded so devastatingly against them such a short time ago.

"What about us? What should we do?"

Dain turned to look at the group of humans behind him. Bright yellow eyes followed him as he moved. The one who had been Swifrunner had spoken, looking to him for guidance.

"Live. Be free."

He didn't wait for a reaction, instead he bent to pick up his shield and moved towards the exit, hearing rather than seeing the others move to his side. His breath hitched in his side, but he ignored it, wanting to be out from under the oppressive rock and atmosphere before he would acknowledge any injuries.


	44. Chapter 44 Wynne's Regret

**Wynne's Regret**

Tattoos like those of the other dalish marked his face, but he seemed to leave unvoiced the spirit Dain had seen among those elves. He had welcomed them into the simple camp, his voice quiet. Seeing the blood on armour and hearing the tale of their coming to be in the forest he had offered healing and poultices. It took only a passing comment from Leiliana about Wynne to have the elf's hands shaking.

"Aneirin?"

Dain asked quietly, one hand holding the half empty water cup. The red head turned slowly to him, though there was an unsure smile on his face.

"You know Wynne?"

Dain nodded, waiting for the elf to offer more.

"How?"

"I met her at Ostagar. I met her at the tower when it had fallen to abominations and blood magic. She chose to accompany the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. She thinks that with her help we can actually end this blight."

Aneirin laughed and sat on the log next to Dain.

"I daresay she would."

The way that Aneirin spoke of the healer nudged a memory to the surface in his mind. Wynne had not offered a name, but had spoken of a mage she had been assigned, how she had not fought for him and finally lost him.

"Would you come with us to the camp? I know she would want to see you Aneirin. To know that she didn't fail you."

Aneirin flinched his gaze to Dain's; there was no anger there, just openness and honesty.

"I do not live with the dalish; my home is out here in the forest."

Dain just smiled sipping the water.

"I didn't say that you had to stay. But I think that part of you wants to see Wynne, probably not as much as Wynne would like to see you. And I think that if I had found you and then lost you, without Wynne knowing, I would have done both friends a disservice."

* * *

><p>Silence greeted the group as they finally entered the dalish camp. Wide eyes followed them; more pairs than there had been before. Here and there Dain recognised elves that had been lying on what had been their deathbeds. Though some still limped and others were pale, they were alive; Zathrian's death had broken the curse. Aneirin was silent as he walked beside the larger armoured man, eyes looking for the white haired mage who had named him as her regret. There was a gasp when she saw him; a hand covering her mouth didn't cover the tears that welled in her eyes. A soft smile lifted Aneirin's lips and he moved to stand before her. Neither spoke, no one in the camp did. Until Zevran had had enough.<p>

"Hug it out already."

A titter of laughter came from Leiliana, punctuated by soft laughter from the elves still watching. Wynne lifted a hand, slowly reaching it to Aneirin's face. She paused, unable to make that last effort. Dain worried for a split second that Aneirin would leave that chasm between them. But with no effort and only the slightest of movements he moved so his cheek touched that hand and Wynne's fingers curved around his jaw, utter softness of her face as she looked at the young one she had thought she had destroyed. Dain smiled and moved around them, letting them be with each other. The fire he had watched for an entire night was still burning, now he relished the heat and sat heavily on the ground, tossing his shield and sword to the side so he could lean back against one of the carved seats. His lids shuddered as he resolutely held them closed. It was done. Finally, after so long. After so much. The treaties were fulfilled. It was a milestone. Dain slowed his breathing, only listening to the crack of flames, disregarding those talking until it was just a hum. The worry of the blight he managed to dwindle to the annoyance of a stone underfoot. It would only last him until his eyes opened, but for now, surely, he could relax if only for that instant.

Lanaya looked at the man who had moved silently from the reunion of Wynne and Aneirin. There had been a half smile on his lips, face stark under that bristle of stubble. She recognised the etching of worry and strain in his face and embedded under his eyes. She had felt it too, with Zathrian. A different kind of worry propelled her now, but it was something she carried easier. She moved silently to his side, gathering her long robes around her legs as she sat. His eyes flickered faster, but something inside must have given him enough information not to have him grasping his sword though fingers flexed.

"You have accomplished something that most would have thought impossible."

There was a wryness in his tone as he spoke, not opening his eyes though they jostled and jumped.

"I think the difficult thing will be to face the darkspawn... Archdemon."

She was silent. Lanaya had seen the shadow left behind the Archdemon, it's calls to the darkspawn. Those misshapen terrifying monsters spilling out of the ground. The poison and death left behind them.

"Have you seen it?"

His voice was a whisper, but she couldn't act like she hadn't heard it.

"I have seen it in my dreams."

Dain snorted,

"I saw it in the deep roads. But it wasn't the first time I have seen it. Every night, the dreams seem to be laying in wait for me to close my eyes. As soon as I lie down I see them. Then the dragon…"

Dain turned to Lanaya and opened his eyes. She smiled instantly.

"Do you have family here Lanaya?"

There was the flicker across her face he recognised though it was replaced by something else quickly,

"Zathrian saved me, when I was younger. I had been stolen by bandits and as with them. Zathrian killed them all, he found me and brought me back here. He is, was, my family. My clan is my family."

"What do you do for those who have fallen?"

"We plant a tree over them. Memories are never forgotten. Clan memories and our own. I will remember him that night, terrifying and brave and violent. His hands as he lifted me from the wagon, his smell and his body heat. He was our Keeper, he was my Keeper."

They sat in silence for a while. In the flashes of the fire Dain could see the bodies of his family; he knew that Lanaya was thinking of Zathrian dead where they had left him. It was the glint from a falling tear that had him speaking.

"He was the Keeper at the end. He lies beneath a huge tree. In the ruins it reaches from the bottom levels, the leaves bursting out into the sky. I think he will be at peace with his children."

He reached out and dried the tear she had let fall. Lanaya started at his gesture, turning to look at him.

"You have lost loved ones?"

"All of them."

She caught this hand as he placed it on the seat behind him to stand, directing his gaze to the others who stood speaking with Wynne and Aneirin.

"Not all Dain."


	45. Chapter 45 Into the maw of the Beast

**Into the maw of the Beast**

To go forwards they had had to go backwards. Back to Redcliffe. It had been a new feeling that powered Dain's legs as they moved back. The words that Lanaya had spoken, of achieving something that perhaps up against the massive opposite of the blight may be small, but alone was an achievement. To get the treaties realised, to get support from all three signees was a huge trump card to hold. But that feeling withered as he stood before Eamon and Teagan in the nearly empty main hall. It had been cleared of guards and knights as news had preceded them of their arrival. Dain understood the politics, had known it in the back of his mind since forever. He was the son of a Teryn after all – but again having them said out loud crushed the fragile feeling of buoyancy he had managed to cultivate since the Brecelian forest.

"Finally, tangible rewards."

Dain could feel the look Alistair flickered to him. Perhaps it was only now visible to Eamon, but he and Alistair had been fighting for what felt like lifetimes. Each morning waking had been a reward. Surviving another ambush, another fight, another obstacle, had been a reward. The extra long breath he exhaled had been noticed by Teagan. The man's eyebrow rose slightly and even inclined his head a little at Dain's ever so slight tilt of his head.

"With this behind us, a real army to oppose the blight, what remains is Loghain. The only real force that we can use is a Landsmeet. As soon as news reached us of your return I sent messengers to all leaders of the Bannorn. I will formally announce it the minute we arrive in Denerim, but those who are not present in the capital will be well on their way."

Dain would enter his first Landsmeet not as a son of Highever, without the laurels of the Couslands adorning his shield or his tunic. Instead he would be there as a Commander of men, elves and mages. Of the Wardens and despite how he felt in his deepest heart where he was still the youngest son of Bryce Cousland, he gave a nod now as the leader of the Grey.

"Excellent. My own are ready to move, we will accompany you Eamon to Denerim. Our pace will be swift."

"So soon, you only just arrived back."

It was Teagan who opened his mouth to speak.

"Time is something we have no luxury of, Bann. The sooner we get to Denerim, the sooner we can prepare for our real enemy."

* * *

><p>Zevran and Oghren had been moved to stillness and surprise as Wynne's words were ignored by the Arl. Despite him regaining some of what he had lost during his time in the Fade as prisoner of the demon, direct orders from the sometimes terrifying healer went unheeded. It took muffled words and a freezing glare from Dain to have him seated in the wagon – that and the Sten posted near the wagon worked too. Their small band seemed to be the focus of ambushes and several skirmishes as soon as they left Redcliffe. Whatever words Dain had spoken hadn't been heard, nor the retorts from the calmer Arl, but the effects of the conversation were obvious.<p>

"Was that not excessive? He is still the Arl."

Wynne offered as Dain threw a log on the campfire angrily. Eamon sat aloof on the steps of the wagon, studiously ignoring the Warden as hard as the Warden did him. Dain clicked his neck and took the stale roll she offered but gave her courtesy of answering before ripping off a mouthful.

"As you realise, I need him alive, not bleeding, not spewing entrails from a stubborn will to prove his prowess. Him up there, spewing expletives and comments about my upbringing or else are fine. Though I would prefer if he kept that fire for Loghain and Howe."

Wynne felt the menace on that last word and was convinced that the mouthful Dain yanked from the roll was a piece of Howe's anatomy. Dain was right; Wynne knew something had shifted in the realisation of his own handling of Jowan, of Eamon's handling of Jowan. Perhaps just as Eamon saw Alistair as a pawn, perhaps he thought that Dain would be content with being one. She had seen in the first instant she had recognised him at the Circle that Dain would never sit back, relax. He had taken the mantle of Commander fully and she would follow him anywhere. And right now it was into the mouth of the beast settled in Denerim.

* * *

><p>"Yes well, it does seem that everyone wants their pound of flesh."<p>

Dain said wearily, rubbing the back of his wrist on his forehead, succeeding only in smearing the dust in his sweat to a light mud. Sighing he pinched the top of his nose as if that pressure could stop at least some of the noise that roared in his mind. It didn't work so he dropped his hand and turned to look at Leiliana.

"How much have you got left?"

Leiliana asked, leaning to catch sight of Dain's face. Alistair looked worriedly at the other Warden, but again his words were resigned, not tensed in barely hidden anger.

"As a man, not enough. As Warden, as much as there needs to be."

Eamon watched the three striding easily next to the cart horse. Perhaps they had forgotten him, or disregarded him. But those short sentences had re-evaluated where he had placed Dain and even Alistair. No pawns were these men. Not the young lad in stables was Alistair any longer. Not the boy he had seen chasing the older Teryn to be with wooden swords was Dain. Their lives had been no game. Though they were tired and wounded and worn, they had more to offer. Eamon offered a prayer to the Maker that there would be something left at the end of it. He wasn't sure if he meant the Landsmeet or the blight, but by Andraste's Flame he hoped that it was the latter. Dain sighed lifting his head to look for Grimm who had rushed off to lead the motley group once more towards the east. He couldn't tell the others, but the thing that was fuelling him now was that with every single step he took moved him closer to Howe, if he drew his sword and held it out he was even closer to tearing the traitor's eyes out. Dain embraced the feeling of welcome heat that surged at that idea and nursed fantasies of what he could take from Howe.

* * *

><p>He could see no way that he could get out of any of this. He didn't want to see Loghain. He didn't think that he could not help but rise to anything the 'Regent' had to say. And if he brought the maggot that was Howe anywhere near him, Dain wasn't sure that he could keep his sword or his dagger sheathed, unless it was in Howe's head. He took a deep breath and didn't allow any of his thoughts colour any movement as he strode behind Eamon into his estate. Grimm stalked at his side, nose snorted in and out air quickly but he didn't move from his master's side. Servants bustled around, and probably had been since Eamon had sent word that he was coming. The scene of domestic duty had knocked him a bit. It had probably been the same at Highever; he hadn't noticed servants or their presence, their practised motions. But here it struck him, how unlike the atmosphere at Redcliffe castle, how unlike how it had been since before Ostagar. The seneschal spoke quietly to Eamon, the Arl flicking a look to he and Alistair before nodding and mumbling something back. The man moved off, gesturing to those servants whose chores had them in the entrance hall, Dain watched from the corner of his eye as they were shepherded out.<p>

"We have company."

Sten said. The rumble that was his words, was nothing compared to the veritable growl that Dain released. Striding through the open doors were three figures, two of whom Dain wanted to see bleeding in agony on the ground. Loghain wore shining armour, the pallor of his skin was pale, a stark contrast to his dark hair. But that look he gave was the same as when he had first met him in the terrible before of his betrayal. At his right a woman, carrying easily the weight of the huge broadsword strapped to her back. There was no doubt that Howe recognised him; there was that vomit inducing smirk he gave as he looked Dain up and down. Dain's lip curled up; all he could see was Howe in a mist of red haze. It was Sten who moved though, closer to his kadan, closer to both offer aide and to stop Dain from carrying through his obvious intent. Eamon turned fully, recovering his balance at the seneschal's nearly belated news and the obvious hate that radiated from Dain.

"Loghain, this is an honour. I didn't expect to be met by the regent himself."

Loghain was looking at Eamon the way one looks nothing but an irritation, a fly nearly flat and swatted.

"How could I not?"

He separated his words as he let his eyes take in those who stood behind and around Eamon. No flare of recognition as he saw Alistair nor Dain who didn't look at him. Just the man at his side.

"For a man so important to pull those away from their estates while hordes of darkspawn gnaws and claws at the land."

His words were accusatory and spat out. Eamon allowed anger to flare in his eyes but he replied with none of it.

"They are the reason I am here. With Cailan gone, a king must be crowned to lead Ferelden against the blight."

"Ferelden has a strong leader, her Queen. And I lead her armies."

Loghain turned his focus back to Dain who took his gaze easily.

"Ah, the Grey warden recruit. I wondered when we would meet again. You have my…sympathies on what happened your order."

At those words, Leiliana's unseen hands gripped Alistair's. His grip back was ferocious as was the look on his face.

"It was unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden."

Dain's eye lid flickered, but not even a backhand from Sten's gauntleted fist would have halted the words on his tongue,

"I don't accept the sympathies of deserters and regicides."

Dain's words were ice cold, matched by the cold calm that had descended upon him. Loghain moved quickly into Dain's face, but the Warden made no move for his weapons though his hands clenched.

"You should curb your tongue. This is my city and no safe place to speak of treason. For any one."

Dain just looked into those dark nearly dead looking eyes; he would not be the one to look away. Loghain turned first, but turned this small defeat into an attack on Eamon.

"So Eamon, there was talk that your illness left you feeble. Too feeble now to advise Ferelden."

But Eamon's retort was as biting.

"My illness? Call your poison for what it was Loghain. Not everyone will discard their loyalties as quickly as you and these…sycophants at your side."

A colourless laugh left Loghain's lips.

"You have been away from court too long Eamon."

In Loghain's tone he made Eamon's name sound like an insult.

"Don't you recognise the Arl of Denerim and Teryn of Highever, Rendon Howe?"

All vision was gone from Dain in the surge of anger. Grimm reached for a hold on Dain's wrist keeping him grounded. Perhaps the mabari could sense that all that held him up now was that ferocious rush of pure hate. That smirk grew as Howe looked at the grimace that appeared on Dain's face.

"Also the Arl of Denerim, the Regent is most generous to those who know where their loyalties should lie."

Howe made careful movements to ensure that Dain could see his face as he spoke,

"Truly, it is an embarrassment of riches."

It was the hate that spoke, nearly spitting his words out.

"I demand blood rights. This piece of filth murdered my family."

"Watch you mouth churl!"

It was Loghain's right hand woman, Ser Cauthrien who spoke. Her glare was filled with promise to physically disembowel him, but it was nothing compared to the glares he had received from Wynne, Leiliana and Morrigan on a daily basis. It anything the word she used to name him made his lip quirk in a half smile.

"Your betters are talking."

"I believe that could be debated."

Zevran's words were loud, drawing attention from Dain to himself. Recognition dawned in the regents and Howe's eyes. But any potential move made on their behalf was stopped when as one Dain and Alistair moved to stand in a unified front before smaller elf.

"Enough Cauthrien. This is neither the time nor place. I had hoped to talk you down from this Eamon. Our people are frightened, our King is dead and our land is under siege. We must be united now if we have any hope against this crisis. Queen Rowan, your sister, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you now see her work destroyed?"

Dain could nearly believe what Loghain was saying; perhaps the Regent was working to convince himself as well.

"You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the light with your selfish ambitions to the throne."

Dain gave a flinch; now Loghain was calling it a blight. Surely he could see that the Wardens were only doing what their duty, evidenced throughout history, moved them to do.

"If the blight it was truly concerns you, ally with us. Stand with us."

"Put my faith in untried foreign hands!"

What foreigners? Dain wanted to yell.

"Cailan depended upon the Warden prowess against the spawn. Look how well that ended. Let us speak of reality instead rather than tales. Stories cannot save us."

"Perhaps the Maker can forgive you Loghain, because I surely cannot. The people need a King of the Theirin bloodline; Alistair will be the one to lead us against this blight."

Dain could see Alistair bite his tongue, but he uttered no reply to Eamon's words, for or against.

"The emperor of Orlais also thought that I could not defeat him. Expect no more mercy than what I showed him. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my homeland."

Loghain punctuated his words by turning and storming from the estate, Howe and Cauthrien at his side. The group watched him go, Eamon only turning when the doors had slammed shut.

"I truly did not expect him so soon."

Dain dropped his head, not realising his mantra had slid from his lips.

"_Howe killed my family, I cannot let him get away with it."_

"I do not expect you to. But he will be hard to get to with his strong alliance with Loghain."

Dain whipped his head, wishing that no one had heard his words.

"But Loghain has had months in this city. We require eyes and ears. The basis of all his schemes must begin here, the sooner we find them the better we can use them to our advantage."

Dain couldn't get up the strength to unclench his hands.

"Go and see if there is anything you can turn up. Find the nobles who have arrived, and whether any will support us. When you are ready to speak strategy, come to my study."

Eamon gave them a nod and moved off, heading up the stairs. The calmness was gone, Dain whirled, he didn't know where he headed, but the ornate vase was a target on his way there. Grabbing it, he threw it at the wall with the hate he had wanted to use against Howe – to stab his eyes and rip his tongue out by the root. It exploded in a crash of splinters and noise. Faces followed him, but there were no words of discouragement or indignation.

"Shit."

Alistair got out looking at the others.

"Pay up boy."

Zevran sighed but dumped coins in Oghren's waiting palms. He shrugged looking at Wynne's frown and Alistair's questioning brow lift.

"We made a bet, I said that Dain would stab Howe and have him dismembered before he could get a word out."

"I would have taken that bet."

Leiliana said, watching servant girls run up to clean up the remains of Dain's passage.


	46. Chapter 46 Duty

_Lordy! What happened to my holidays? The offering that I am offering below, is short, but I got a little side tracked by the stuff that comes after. And I havena written since I finished exams last year. Anyways, there will be more and hopefully this still reads okay. Any hoo, thanks for reading and sticking with this._

* * *

><p><strong>Duty<strong>

Dain knew that he was glaring, had been glaring the whole time the servant had intruded on his fug of anger. Huddled into a corner of the library he had been playing over the 'conversation' with Loghain and Howe. Though this time the mist of split blood covered both of…them. The ravages of fury filled fists leaving nothing but pulp of Howe's weasel features. The visions of his imagination had been slowto dissipate, but they had retreated at the incessant presence of one of Eamon's servants.

"The Arl wishes to see you in his study."

His eyes had narrowed at the intrusion, and then at the barely hidden order given to him by the older man. Dain only managed an abrupt nod, that permission enough to the servant who was gone in a blink. Taking a deep breath he squared his shoulders and made his way up to Eamon's study, aware that his face was still harsh, his gaze doubly so. He didn't care.

* * *

><p>"No Alistair. I've asked you to accept this and you haven't. Trust me, I get where you're coming from. But you are not seeing where I am. I need you to stay here. We are so close."<p>

Dain broke his eye contact with Alistair. Those four words seemed to turn all his breath to void, moving him to lean his weight against the fire's mantle. We are so close. He turned his head so he could barely see Alistair's blurred shape in the edge of his vision.

"Can you believe it? I can actually say those words and…"

Flames! All Dain could think about was this great opportunity that had fallen into his lap, that despite how useful the Queen could be, if they could rescue her…all he saw was the possibility that he would find Howe and simply end him. Duty as Warden and as a Cousland, something he couldn't deny anymore, had become the same.

"I get it. I do get it. You said it to me, that we are brothers. I see the glee that you got as soon as Erlina said that Anora was being held in Howe's estate. I get it, I get all of it. And that is why I want to be there."

"I know that Alistair, and if it comes to fighting I would prefer that you were there. But this time, because we are so close, so close, that this time I need you to stay here. I just, if…"

There was silence in the room then, Eamon had left and the slim elf who had so easily gained their aide. Only the cracks from the fire filled the room, until Alistair sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright. You do realise though, that getting any of the others to capitulate as easily as me is impossible right?"

Dain turned fully, a grin lifting the side of his mouth. He reached out his hand and clasped Alistair's,

"Thank you."


	47. i'll kill you for what you've done

**I'll kill you for what you've done**

Her voice didn't ghost through the hard oak door, shimmering with a magical barrier. What ever the mage had done had made physical egress impossible, but not the sureness of her voice. Dain wasn't sure, but though Eamon had told him of Anora, of the keenness of mind inherited from her father; he had been used to others putting barricades of their own making in the way of success. For being kidnapped by Howe and shut in a room in 'his' estate, there was no sign of fear, indeed no sign of panic, just a rigid assuredness that it would be sorted. Dain was surprised when he realised why that sounded so familiar; a sure fire echo to his mother. He flipped his gaze from the past to the more obviously worried elf.

"Where is Howe?"

Anora answered,

"I'm not sure, but his room is further down the hall."

"Ah, so much for secrecy than eh Dain?"

Zevran drawled, pale eyes sparkling at him from beneath the brow of the 'borrowed' guardsman's helmet.

"If he didn't know that you were here, then he soon will."

Anora offered in reply. Dain gave the assassin a wink before giving Erlina a brief nod.

"We will be back."

* * *

><p>The metallic, heavy scent of blood seemed flow from under the door before him. Zevran was still in the treasure room, cooing over the gleaming fortune in coin that he, along with Leiliana, had lifted from Howe. He had been happy too, another way to screw Howe over. But the smell of split blood cleared his mind like a honed blade. Wynne noticed the change in his posture, or the look on his face and turned to him. At that both the bard and assassin seemed to lift from their success. Dain opened the door and the smell of blood, pain and abject terror washed over them. Dain saw Leiliana tremble, only for an instant, and that look of professional detachment descended. He looked at her for a little bit longer before he led the group further into the dungeon.<p>

"I thank you for the distraction. One who does not hear the sound of music in the turn of a lock has never been imprisoned."

Dain simply watched carefully as the man left the cell, the armour that had scant minutes before adorned his guard now saw easily on his frame. He was shorter than himself, but had that air of capability that had struck him the first time he had met Duncan. Though Dain knew he had not seen the man before, he seemed to stir up familiar memories. As he studied the man, he was also studied. Riordan's mind flicked back to the reports Duncan had sent back before Ostagar and those he had found in that ruined place. Riordan offered a smile and a stunted bow,

"Let me introduce myself, I am Riordan, a Grey Warden from Jader, and you my friend, are Duncan's last recruit. Yes, you match his description."

"Then I understand how you ran afoul of Howe or Loghain's probably expected offer of hospitality."

Riordan watched as Dain accepted his words, a subtle relaxing of his shoulders. Acceptance as senior Warden?

"How many others did you bring with you?"

A snort at the bitter memory made it out of Riordan's nose.

"Two hundred Wardens and several dozen chevaliers. We were stopped at the border. It was there that we first heard of the charges that Loghain had levelled at the Wardens. After…much debate it was decided that with being a native Ferelden I would have a better go of it entering alone and scout the lay of the land. With Loghain's civil war and the chance of letting it run its course before taking on the Blight."

Dain nodded, he understood.

"Fighting a war on two fronts is not a task for the Wardens."

A sudden smile lifted his mouth,

"Just Alistair and I."

Riordan moved closer, movements hindered from smoothness by torture and time,

"From what I have heard, you have not done too bad raising your own army."

Dain lifted his head, not aware that he had dropped it, looking the older man in the face.

"We go on to find Howe. Arl Eamon is a friend of the Wardens, find his estate and he will aide you."

At the name Howe Riordan was interested at the change of the look in Dain's eyes. Not just his eyes but the nearly ravenous grin that appeared on his lips. All Riordan knew was that he didn't want to be Howe for anything.

"Wynne, give him enough to get him to Eamon."

Dain moved past the wincing Warden, the older man looking to the elderly woman who smiled benevolently from beneath the harsh metal helmet, lifting her hands to sit gently on his now armoured shoulders. The bloom of relief rose behind the pain and his stood a little straighter. This Wynne smiled again, patting his cheek before moving to walk quickly behind the lithe woman who held an arrow to the string of a long elegant bow. Riordan sighed, pleasure at the deepness of the breath before he undertook his own escape.

Their ruse was over as soon as that corridor was travelled. And for each time his sword scissored through a guard, each time he smashed the edge of his shield into a jaw, through a nose or caved a chest in, the realisation that he was an intruder into Howe's home, was wrecking a path of death and corpses right to where that man had hidden, made the fire that had sat in his chest roar higher a bit more. The whimper of living pain caught his hearing, pulling Dain back from the very brink of blind fury. Zevran slid forward, fingers making quick work of the lock, swinging the door open, stepping back to do so. Inside was the ruin of a young elf, thin chest still lifting in slight stilted breaths. He must have known that the door was open and that there were others before him, but he couldn't seem to lift his head to look at them, whether through pain or fright. Wynne moved a little closer, a hand over her mouth as she looked at the beaten and tortured body before her.

"You poor boy…"

She made to kneel but the elf flinched at even the sound of her soft voice, moans barely sounding from his throat. She stood straight looking to the others for guidance. Dain simply looked at the body, relishing the anger he held for the boy, roaring now into a funeral pyre for Howe. The young elf continued to cower, keening in the back of his throat. Zevran moved a step forward but halted, not sure what to say. Dain knelt before the elf, not reaching to touch him. He was filthy, blood, dirt and pain etched on his face. Quick flicks of his eye to the open door, to those who looked at him, to the man who knelt before him.

"Wynne, can you help him?"

The elf flicked up his head quickly at the mage's movement, eyes massive as if magnified by the tears in them.

"This is Wynne, she will heal you. We cannot take you home, can you get there?"

It seemed a lot for the elf to take in; eyelids blinking quickly. Finally he seemed to find his tongue.

"Ssssoris. That's my name."

"What happened, my friend?"

Zevran's voice was soft, barely breaking the nearly tortured exhalations.

"It, it, it. It was Vaughan."

Dain's frown deepened. He knew that name. He knew that his father, Urien, had died at Ostagar. He also knew the sadistic tendencies the man did his utmost to satiate.

"I know of him."

Soris flicked his gaze to Dain; in that growl of a sentence he recognised the same hate for the being that he himself had felt, when that had flared he had run to defend the others…look where that had got him. Soris visibly relaxed as the soothing blue from Wynne's hands shone over his body. He collapsed properly to the ground, not shying from Wynne as she shuffled closer, nor from Dain.

"He came to Alienage, I don't know how long ago. Took the brides, my bride. My friend and I came here to get them back…"

"Vaughan is not the Arl though. With Urien gone…Howe has taken the position of Arl."

Wynne said, patting one of Soris' hands. Dain offered a few gold coins to the elf.

"Can you get to your home from here?"

"I think so."

Dain finally opened one of the elf's hands and placed the sovereigns in his palm.

"Go."

Dain couldn't look at the relief and hope on the elf's face, managing to stand with help from Wynne, shyly taking the hand Dain offered. Once up he looked in shock at the other rows of cells, finally shaking his head and shuffling off. Dain looked at Leiliana; she stood away from Zevran, her arms wrapped around her chest. He moved to her, careful not to touch her, but he moved so she was looking at him,

"Are you okay?"

"Memories."

"Should I not have brought you?"

That quick smile of hers perked up her lips,

"Of course not. You need my help. I wouldn't abandon you before Howe."

An entirely different smile lit up Dain's face. Leiliana had seen it many times before. It spoke of death and pleasure to taken in that act.

* * *

><p>There wasn't a look of surprise on Howe's weasel like face. But there was caution. Dain simply moved into the room, mostly disregarding the other men with Howe, only looking at those eyes. Hate burnt so brightly in them now, but Dain knew that the flames of fury were alight in his own.<p>

"Well now, Bryce Cousland's little boy. All grown up and still trying to fit into daddy's armour."

Dain hated the way he destroyed his father's name, making it into a slur, a curse. But he said nothing, now just looking at the few men he had with him. Rangers, two with sword, a shield and a mage. As per the rough plan that he had in his head, Zevran was already in stealth moving to the one that could interfere the most. Stiff arms crossed Howe's chest, Dain didn't show the grin he felt; the man defensive already.

"And playing at being a Warden."

His words were spat out. Dain couldn't nearly believe the nearly overwhelming push of utter hate that had welled even at the first words. These had him taking half a menacing step forward,

"Does it look like I've been playing Howe?"

His words were low, the Marches accent rendering them even more intimidating than his drawing a blade would have made them. Rendon took in the man before him, he hadn't seen Dain fight in his time at the castle, and he'd thought he'd be an easy push over. But back in his routing of Highever when his men reported not finding his body or that of the old Warden, that news had caused him to fly into a rage. Now standing before him, even in stolen Denerim guard armour there was no mistaking that there was a very good reason for Dain's survival and the news that had been filtering to his ears over the last months. He seemed larger than he had been in the simple leather armour of a young man. His cheek bones were more pronounced – from his time as Warden or from the worm of hate that had been pushing him for vengeance? Behind him stood that redheaded chantry whore, in her hands a well made bow, an arrow already strung, and an elderly woman. Mage or not she looked infirm; his own mage would destroy her in a matter of seconds. Dragging his gaze back to the man before him he could see the eyes of Bryce's Eleanor staring back at him. Dain hadn't drawn his sword yet, though it was only a question of time. But for now Dain seemed content with nursing the hatred burning in his chest.

"This reminds me of Highever, the night I created you."

Dain couldn't think of a reply; the first chill shuddering his heart as he saw that grin on Howe's face.

"Let me tell you first of your mother. I made her lick my boots, right before I slit that whore's throat. It was the last thing your father saw, lying in a pool of his own entrails."

Ah! There. That flinch was what he wanted. Dain could only swallow heavily, he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead.

"Now you have nothing. Your brother's corpse rots in the Wilds. And his little brat burnt on the scrap heap with his Antivan whore of a mother. The Wardens are finished. Face it Dain, you are the last of nothing."

The chill that had started as his mind traitorously conjured the images Howe fed him, now shivered down his body. The heat had become so hot that it had become ice cold. His eyes that had been wavering turned to flint.

"The Wardens are far from finished Howe. I am far from the last of nothing. The only thing that is ending is your life."

A snarl ripped out of Howe's mouth.

"There! That is it. That look in your eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back."

"Held you back?"

It was mocking, a red flag. Howe knew it.

"So you have made something out of yourself. Your father would be proud of you, I simply want you dead, now more than ever."

Something we do have in common. Dain couldn't get the words out of his mouth but Howe must have seen something in his face.

"So it's not just that scheming bitch that has managed to poison your mind."

Dain knew whom he spoke of. He didn't answer but lifted an armoured arm and pulled free his sword, settling his shield onto his arm. He let Howe register that before speaking,

"I needed no new reason to see you spitted on the end of my sword Howe, this is just another log on your pyre."

Howe smiled; Dain's face had gone blank. But he had seen that glint of agony deep in those eyes before it had been extinguished. Dain looked at the thing before him, inside the hate was roaring; he wanted to scream, to tell the man that he would destroy the whole line of Howe. But he knew it wasn't true, he just hoped that the anger would be a little appeased with the blood that he would spill.

With a strangled yell of anger Howe leapt forward, a beautifully wrought axe and sword in his hands. The others knew how Dain wanted it to go down and they split. Zevran shimmered into sight behind Howe's pet mage and drew his blade across his throat. The man gaped, mouth mirroring the red slice, falling to the ground thrashing in his blood, still oblivious to the man behind his death. Leiliana rained death upon the others, Zevran proving the perfect obstacle to the two women, allowing them to perform their parts perfectly. Dain was silent as he fought Howe, relishing in this his Duty finally leading him to this man who had set him as a Grey Warden. Whatever Howe had thought would be adequate protection would be nothing before those he had brought with him. They were tempered against darkspawn, the undead and spirits; there was simply no way Howe was going to leave this room alive. Dain recognised old skill, it wouldn't be enough. He opened his guard a fraction and Howe dove into the false opening. He grinned, catching the shift on Howe's face, sliding from smugness to understanding terror. The sword slid under his arm, snagging and breaking a rib before sliding deep into his chest. Dain kept the man on his sword, keeping him upright with the strength in his arm; wanting to keep looking into his face, wanting to remember this forever. Howe's hands lost their grip on now useless weapons, fingers fluttering instead at the blade that sprouted from his chest.

"You're dead."

And then he tipped Howe back, the man sliding to the ground. Howe fumbling now at the stones, blood seeping from his mouth and chest. Dain kept looking at the ruined man's face, still shining with utter hate.

"Maker spit on you, I deserved more."

For you Mother, Father. For you Ori, Oren. For you Roland. And for myself. Utter truth coated his next words, Howe's slowly fading eyes on his.

"Bullshit, you deserved everything you got."

The sword biting down to strike the stone below as he leant on it, the sound of cracking trachea and bone was loud in the after battle silence. Dain took a deep breath, not blinking, not wanting to break his tunnelled vision. Simply staring at that broken body as death stamped heavily on that piece of crap. After what felt like an eternity; pulling hard at his eyes and shoulders, he managed to pull his attention up to the others. Wynne had her whole body averted, but there was satisfied revenge on both Leiliana and Zevran's faces. The elf even seemed impressed. As Dain tensed his jaw he felt the clench of drying blood on his face, awkwardly he wiped at it with his hand, really only smearing it further. His movement was enough to have Wynne turning to him, offering him, from a distance, a square of cloth from her sleeve. The change in his focus pushed the others into movement, Zevran nearly skipping to the bodies, fingers rifling with age old skill through robes and armour, darting to pouches and back again. He came to his feet, hefting an axe, formerly Howe's. Testing it for balance before grinning at Dain, sweeping the weapon in a grandiose gesture.

"After you."

Dain grinned suddenly. As suddenly finding it an easy thing to do.

"Is there someone there? Well hurry up!"

As one all four turned to the rear of the room, ranks of cells there too.

"Do you know who I am! I'm the Arl of Denerim, so help me I'll have you all flayed."

Dain flashed a look to Zevran. His eyebrows were lifted as he finally understood who was yelling.

"Oh well then. I'll be right with you."

There was a look of begging permission; Dain could recognise the look in Zevran's eyes. Dashing a look to Howe, he found himself moving towards Vaughan.

* * *

><p>She'd seen him first. Tilting her head back to look into his face. No smile had quirked his lips, those lips, as his sea green eyes had taken in the armour she wore. There had been the splash of blood at the corner of his mouth, she'd wanted to reach up and wipe it, but she was frozen to stillness at the emotion in his eyes. His voice had been deep, thrilling up and down her spine.<p>

"Anora."

"Warden."

With furious words at that hidden feminine part of her, she straightened her already rigid spine. Dain looked at her, taking in the guardsman armour she wore, the same as the others. He was still impressed at her calmness, though he knew he shouldn't be really. After all she was Loghain's get. After all, she was the Queen. But all the same, he still wanted to tuck that lock of hair behind her ear. He instead nodded,

"We'd better make this fast, I don't know whether we'll get out before the alarm is raised, but take your cue from me, Anora this includes you."

He looked at the others as he spoke, but turned to fasten bright eyes on her when he said her name. When she nodded an affirmative, he spun on the balls of his feet, sweeping the others behind him in his wake. Hurrying Erlina close, the slim dark skinned elf moved to Anora's side, even dashing a charming grin at her, a delicate tattoo swept down from the side of his eye. He gave a wink as he saw her looking at him. But as they moved into the hall foyer it changed to a look of harshness. Lifting her gaze, she saw it was lined with guards holding their swords to the ready, Loghain's right hand Ser Cauthrien stood at the forefront, that hard look poised at them…no the Warden. Anora dropped her gaze, edging unconsciously towards the protection that the elf represented. Dain had halted just through from the door way. When Cauthrien spoke, he turned his head to her from his perusal of the men that lined the foyer. Taking a few steps closer to listen to her words, he carefully kept his hands away from his weapons.

"Warden, by order of the Regent, you are under arrest for the murder of Arl Rendon Howe and his men at arms. Be reasonable, do the honourable thing and come quietly."

Dain's eyes narrowed, but neither he nor Cauthrien moved. Anora flicked her eyes so she could see the elf in her peripheral vision; fingers barely twitching, his being was centred on the man who had led them. Shifting her eyes to the woman, standing close to the old mage, that same concentration on the man who was so still. As still as Cauthrien was. And then he nodded, lifting his hands before him, clasping his wrists together in sign of his surrender. Cauthrien nodded and with a small signal two of her men moved to take possession of his sword and shield.

"I am surprised that you do so willingly, Warden, perhaps it speaks well of you."

Her gaze flicked hard to those Dain had led, but maybe the manacled man before her had taken the edge from her focus, evident in her next words.

"The Regent doesn't care about the others, let them go."

Dain couldn't, didn't, wouldn't, turn to look at the others. He knew that Leiliana would drag her heels, but trusted that Wynne, Zevran and the knowledge that Anora was still disguised would push her to leave, quickly and quietly. The guards opened the door, and led by Cauthrien, flanked by the many guards she had brought, Dain stepped out into the daylight.

She hadn't known what he would do; fear that any sort of look to her by Cauthrien would have her disguise rendered useless. None bar Cauthrien spoke, Maker how she wished she could see his face; would it give anything away? He didn't turn back to look at them, just raised his hands and let the guards take his weapons, then he'd stepped forward, letting Cauthrien take him, she'd dashed a backwards look to the man. He was manacled, his weapons gone, but his head wasn't bowed. Then the slim elf had pushed her forward and she'd lost sight of the man.

* * *

><p>He was stripped. Assumed stolen armour clattered to the ground as it was yanked, the linen padding ripped and thrown into shadowed corners. Dain closed his eyes, but he wasn't tossed into a cell; instead he was pulled to a room that seemed to be plastered in blood and secured to a chain. It was drawn high, till his toes were barely touching the blood stained stones. It stretched his muscles, sending sparks of electric pain through sinew and nerve. Dain shut off that part of him. There were screams and moans coming from the many cells and torture rooms around him. Only the Maker knew how many others Howe had been captured and 'detained'. Lifting his chin he peered into the murk, leering faces of those who took such perverse pleasure from causing pain to others ringed him, smiles as they spat on him. He lifted his head further, simply focussing on a far torch. The first whip stung, he shook his head, he had passed the Joining, had his heart ripped out by the man he had murdered, he was already covered in scars from his eleven month journey that had led him to this point. To Fort Drakon.<p>

Dain was finally thrown into the cell, a pitiful sprinkling of hay to absorb the blood and excretions of the previous occupant. He pressed his cheek to the hot stone, feeling the trickle of blood down his back from the ruination they had wrecked. Not here was he worried about the new taint that swam in his veins, any strength that it leant him only gave him longer to feel those lashing shocks. He was glad that he had forced Alistair to stay behind, he had needed Zevran for his stealth, Leiliana after she stated she was coming, and then the fact she had been there before. And Wynne because he'd first thought that he would make her heal Howe so he could kill him repeatedly, but then for her common sense and her own anger at Howe and Loghain. It repeated itself, him dragged from his cell to be chained and beaten, stretched on the rack, there was no lack of imagination for those that were stationed down here. Apparently anger had been nursed to hatred and they took it out on the Warden Cauthrien had fed them. He relaxed his body, trying to recall Sten's words, about meditation; it was difficult, harder each time he was tossed into his cell.


	48. Chapter 48 Drakon

**Drakon**

"Eamon, we have a problem."

The Arl looked up from the papers littering his desk, Alistair coming to a rigid stand from his awkward perusal of a library shelf. Anora's face was flushed, though she now she wore a slim well made dress. The others had shed their purloined armour too, but the same shock and fear lined their faces. Riordan, hidden by a birdcage lifted his head too, perhaps he recognised the worry in her voice, or heard it in the thud of their footsteps. Alistair took one look at the expression on Leiliana's face before striding to her side, his hands automatically reaching to hold hers within.

"Where is Dain?"

Alistair's tone of voice seemed to take the question out of the words. It was obvious, the blaring hole that Dain's presence should have filled. His mind raced to come up with some sort of safe excuse. The air seemed to chill when Anora spoke next; too calmly for the word's import.

"Cauthrien took him. Most likely to Fort Drakon. We need to get him out of there."

For once his mind was quick,

"Zevran."

Golden eyes flicked to his face,

"Get the others, bring them here. We need to come up with a plan."

Anora watched the backbone suddenly slide into place, more than a little surprised at Alistair's quick order. Her surprise grew when Zevran spun to do so.

"Did you find Howe?"

Eamon had risen from his desk and moved with clasped hands to join the group. Leiliana nodded, clenching tighter at Alistair's hand. Anora didn't seem to even deign to notice. The bard knew better.

"We did. Dain took care of him."

* * *

><p>No one could decide to go after him. It wasn't just Wynne who wanted to scream. She sat, shoulders drawn high in her anxiety. It was the only sign of it, and the fact she couldn't unclasp her hand from Aneirin's gift of polished honey coloured amber. Morrigan leant on the wooden framed window, eyes cast away from the dreadfully awkward group sitting at the large table. Though the sun beamed through the glass, the shadows seemed to accumulate where she stood, and so her presence was largely forgotten, or ignored. Dain. In Drakon. The prison was only talked about in harsh terms in the streets and alleys of Denerim. Even more so since Howe had been in charge of it, something about the sadistic man had bloomed further with such ready access to inflict pain. But for all of what she had been taught by Flemeth, what she had witnessed, Dain placed in such a place, for such a woman, was something she couldn't even imagine. That booming shock of him, his personality, his physicality and essence, pushed and ground away by the torturers of Drakon…She sighed, breath misting the glass, but turned arms still folded rigidly over her chest, to face the others, only slight bursts of words perpetrating the gloom that had now filled the room. Alistair stared at the stained whorls of wood before him in the table top. He couldn't go. He couldn't. Not as Warden, not as the son of Maric, something he still didn't feel. His hands were tied with both.<p>

"Can we not break him out?"

More than a few eyes glanced at Anora, as if she would take umbrage at the lack of due course. But though she would not utter it aloud, it seemed the only option, though it was the poorest.

"I think the more diplomatic option should be explored first. Howe's murder, though met with happiness and even approval on the streets of the city, he was still Loghain's…Let me meet with other supporters and find us ground where we can plan further."

"Plan? You have called a Landsmeet, and despite the ones that you have around the table, invested players of course, you have lost the most important one to the chains and whips in the Regent's dungeon!"

Morrigan's words were scathing, and drilled into the deep seated fears of all of them. Sten turned his head, suddenly wanting to see the looks on their faces, the realisation of how Dain was kadan to all of them.

She sat there, a little in shock. That half clothed woman with bewitching eyes had an observant eye, how quickly she had understood. The words seemed to enforce that knowing into _knowing _that he was in Drakon. That whatever had been planned, whatever was supposed to come next was now sidelined. Anora turned back to the others, realising she had been staring at that apostate, that woman. Those who had travelled so far with the two Wardens now looked at each other with their loss on their face.

"We can't go after him."

Even rendered in the dwarf's thick accent, hidden behind his braided moustache, it wasn't just Wynne who heard how lost they were. How everyone wanted get him and bring him back, but how they could not.

"My lady."

Erlina bowed, she had dithered outside the door, unwilling to break up the durge like atmosphere. Anora looked at her maid then stood. Eamon stood first, Alistair a split second after him. She made her way to the door.

"Though for this outcome, I still cannot believe the appropriateness of Howe dying so wonderfully at the hands of the family that he had tried so hard to destroy."

There was obvious pride in Zevran's voice. The suddenness of realisation came with the image of his eyes. Sea green…Elanor.

"The Warden is a Cousland."

She turned, it was elegant; trained from so young for poise, but she was unable to stop the words falling from her lips. Alistair looked at her, nodding though he had been nearly to speak to Eamon.

"Yes, Dain is the last of the Couslands. Zevran said that they had met Howe in the dungeons. Even he was impressed with what was left…or wasn't I suppose depending on how you look at it."

* * *

><p>Anora sat heavily on the chair, staring into the fire. Of course. How could she have forgotten such a thing. Elanor had been so dear to her, such a breath of fresh air from those who had crowded the court. A woman, let alone a Teryna, that had that spark in her eye, had such a clear view of grasp of herself, of her family and her responsibilities. The vision of Elanor that had formed before her in the flames turned to her youngest son, even to the smear of what must have been Howe's blood, marking the smooth curve of a lip. Something came to her as she thought, a realisation that shocked her. Cailan had been handsome, golden, she had loved him in her own way…but he had been a fool. Her father had been a traitor to the crown as well as a father. Cailan…she smiled even as tears welled. With that practised, rehearsed effort of will, so second hand, the bare well of tears was gone. The King, he had been like a magpie, darting here and there after things that shone, jewels, glory and women. Look where that had got him. It had been a lance in the heart each time she had heard, how did he think she would not? And where had that got him. The Warden, this son of the blue and white laurels, had not given up. Duty had dictated his actions, to end Howe, to rescue her, to be arrested, to allow their escape. To allow her escape? That depth of feeling had been reserved for her father, had been. But now the few minutes she had spent in the roundabout company of the Warden had finally made her feel safe, as much as she could rely on anyone else anymore.<p>

* * *

><p>The physical torment was nothing to him. The twist of the rough manacles around his wrists, he purposefully sat so the chain was taut, so that the ragged metal cut skin. Physical suffering kept his eyes open. Sleep had not been restful, not since that night with Iona, not since his family had been alive. Haunted by the shades of murdered loved ones, of course now mingled with the overwhelming visage of the Archdemon, of it's calls to the soulless spawn that pulled him into their march. Exhaustion had been at the edges of his vision over the last few weeks, but with being in the darkened, fire lit, hot hell of Drakon, it seemed that the nightmares of being a Warden struck even while he was awake. When he did fall into dregs of sleep, the thunder of darkspawn feet and the longing call of the dragon had him rearing out of the doze, yanking, pulling at the chain as if to actually flee. Dain managed to come to a stand when the lock screeched and the guards came for him again. The stairs sent shock waves of heat through his feet.<p>

Nothing had prepared him for that. That hot anger that had grown for Howe that had sustained him was replaced by cold anxiety. Instead of that reliable feeling, everything paled then thundered into absolute pain that stopped his heart as his eyes focussed on, that. The lifeless and bloody body of Rory. Dain tore loose, flailing with chained hands, one guard was struck and he fell away. The other reached for Dain, but he was sidestepped, his own bloodied body struggling to reach his friend, coordination marred by torture now wrecked by such sorrow. Sightless eyes stared past him, congealing blood covering the animated face Dain remembered, had held in his memories. He lay in a pile of other bodies, men and woman, all their limbs sprawled in violent and frightened death. The air that had stilled, thundered into his lungs as he fell before Rory; the scream that left his mouth quietened even the barking and howling of the kennelled mabari. But it couldn't silence the cries of pain and terror held behind other locked cell doors. Tears that life hadn't torn from him, that pain and torture hadn't been able to drag from him slid then poured from hot eyes. Dain lifted swollen and tied hands to Rory's cheek, a parody of warmth in the lax skin, his fingers left streaks of blood and filth. Spittle flecked Dain's lips as he tried to breathe, when he bit his lip to find words a bubble of blood welled.

"I'm so sorry Rory."

Dain lifted his fingertips to his lips, kissing them, leaning to press them against his best friend's forehead, leaving a smudge of saliva.

"I couldn't save…"

The cudgel was more steel than wood, even wrapped in leather. Dain fell limbless, blood spilling from this new wound; joining other stains on the stones.


	49. Chapter 49 Duty not Done

**Duty not done**

Next to Dain, the stiff body of Rory, thrown in to be company. He had screamed for them to take him out; it was energy sapping, to take the body away. Finally pleading, grasping at iron bars for them to listen. But they had ignored him and it seemed he had got used to the corpse's presence. The eyes were dull now, the body ruined from it's treatment before and after death. It had taken what felt like years for Dain to be able to close his eyes for more than a rapid blink, not just staring at the remains of his best friend waiting for him to smile, to wink. Maker how he wanted him to laugh. Bear's in the pantry again. As he watched the torchlight on the naked body he was glad he had forced Alistair to stay at Eamon's estate.

He couldn't figure out day and night, Dain couldn't allow himself to fall asleep and now his time in the cell was uninterrupted by torture. That had stopped since Rory's body had been flung into his cell. Apprehension that had been building in his chest they were concocting something new for him had faded, but now his mind was full of all that had to be accomplished outside of here, outside of cell. The last time he had been gnawed at with such fright had been the night of the darkspawn ambush at their camp. He had been able to end the night laughing of all things, but that had been because of Alistair, because of the others. Here the fright seemed enough to have his heart stopping. It wasn't the only thing. Dain had long since fallen to lie on the ground, muscles that had shivered at the cold and at the pain moved with irregularity, the taint in his blood losing in the fight against Drakon. He finally let his eyelids closed though still stubbornly held to consciousness, however hazy as it was. After this incarceration, after such a 'living' as it had been for the past year…Dain knew that the fight he wanted to continue inside was waning. Behind fevered flickering eyes the pulse of his heart that he had counted was slower. But then something else came to mind, something new for him to focus on. A vision of blue eyes. He knew those eyes, they were hers. He had never seen the Queen, only what his dead family had told him of her and Cailan's wedding, what Eamon and Alistair had said. They were looking at him in the same way when the door had opened, his mind still filled with Howe's last exhalation. Was that interest? Him speckled in Howe's blood. Maker knew that it had been in his. He hadn't been expecting armour, her tall slim body encased in the same stolen armour as his own, but there had been unexpected awkwardness. That started something instead of the fright. His body struggled, but he managed to drag into the foetal position and found warmth. He didn't wonder but it was that pair of eyes, but also that hated but reliable heaviness of the taint that comfort, that made him find the strength. Dain smiled, soon.

It had taken four rotations, but the guard still went down as wretched he felt and how shattered his body was. He dragged the unconscious body into his cell and knelt to undo his armour. Finally one that had splintmail plates that could cover his shoulders. It took too long, he knew, but eventually he managed to stand encased now in guardsman armour. He moved out, trying to inject a pride and swagger into his steps that he didn't feel. It would take a mixture of skill, a silver tongue and a huge amount of luck to pull off. He hadn't heard the mabaris howl or bark. It worked in his favour, the guard went down with a slit throat, the moan he gave as he died was nothing, but at the smell of sudden blood the mabari's were up. One went down suddenly, its lunge had it impaled on his sword. But that had him open to the next. Perhaps it was his sudden attacking appearance but it chose not to attack but instead barked rabidly. Shots of thundering, disorientating sound. They thundered into his head like lead nails. And it was a flailed sword that ended that tirade. Breath sawed in and out, he even had to kneel to gain his balance. Once he could breathe through his nose, he cleaned his face quickly, dunking his hands repeatedly into water troughs filled for the kennelled mabaris. Even as he wiped blood and filth from his face, Dain knew though there was no way to hide his bruises; all he could pray for is that they were taken as merely evidence of brawling in the barracks.

He could have smiled in utter relief when his punishment would wait until his return from his patrol. The other two got him through password points, but when they moved towards the chapel for a blessing from the Mother, he feigned cramp, all the while railing inside. He glanced to the final door between he and relative freedom. Dain stumbled, sudden terrible cramp in deadened muscles nearly destroyed whatever resolve he had managed to shore up and snatch from thin air. Gasping for breath he ducked into a side stock room, leaning against the wall, trying to draw any more strength and fading courage from the bare bones of his ruined body. He didn't want to acknowledge that there was so little left. He took in a stubborn breath and left that room, hopefully far enough from the others in his patrol, close enough to leaving Drakon.

Lifting his head, Dain thought that he had dreamed the whole thing; that he still actually lay in his own filth back in that tiny cell. Because he knew that red hair, that face, he had seen worry in it before. Dain staggered, relieved that the guards had closed the door behind him, now the huge echoing and empty foyer of Drakon lay ahead. And lifting her face towards him, rising from a courtly kneel, was Leiliana. In only a few short breaths, somehow she saw through his disguise while those guards and the Captain could not, how she did, Dain didn't know. She did not wear her drake skin armour, nor any obvious weapons, instead wearing a tight gown, her hair styled and lips rouged. Getting to her feet she was a blur as she ran to him, letting him lean his weight on her, hands holding his shoulders,

"Zevran is here, bribing one of the guards. Hold on."

She whispered urgently into his ear. Steadying his shaking weight Leiliana leant back to study his partly hidden face. There were no bleeding wounds on his face, but she could see that there were heavily beaten bruises, a broken nose. He had only roughly wiped the blood that had dripped from his ears.

"Oh…Shall we go?"

Zevran said, appearing silently and sliding under Dain's left side, taking more of his weight from the Orlesian.

"Oooph. I'm glad the Qunari is outside."

* * *

><p>Leiliana pulled the helmet from his head as soon as they were out of sight of the tower. Sten stepped out from the shadows at their appearance. Moving faster when Dain stumbled. He caught the ruined body of his kadan under his arms, now Dain was a dead weight. Zevran stepped around him, stripping the regulation sword and shield, flinging them into a bush. A gauntlet was yanked loose, but the unconscious flinch Dain gave had Zevran stilling in the harsh removal of the other. Reopened wounds leaked blood and lymph, Zevran looking into Leiliana's face with utter regret in his eyes. Sten grunted but hefted Dain into his arms.<p>

"Lets just leave it and go."

Leiliana's face had not changed from a look of horror since she had recognised Dain. Now she took her hidden weapons and held them ready, jogging at the head of the group. Zevran took the rear, his weapons too now naked in his hands. They moved as fast as Sten could manage with the dead weight of Dain in his arms. It seemed torturously slow, but eventually they saw the gates of Eamon' manor. Torches flared and the gate was raised at Leiliana's frantic calls. The flare from the torches was trebled as Wynne and Morrigan ran into the courtyard.

Sten carried the still armoured body, into the manor and up the stairs. He had studied the man as they had moved in the changing lights of the Denerim backstreets and then in the light of the estate. He could still recognise the body of his kadan and had in a split second. But he had never seen Dain as he was now, boneless, exhausted and ruined.

"Wynne!"

It was Alistair, an echo in his voice took Wynne and Oghren back to the Deep Roads. There were several hands that helped to take his armour. But with a look from Wynne and back up from Sten and Oghren, now guarding the door, only Alistair, Wynne and Leiliana stayed in the room. Leiliana had started to cry as each piece of armour had been dropped to the floor. Obvious that Dain had ignored massive pain to don that unforgiving armour, especially with no padding and no cover on his wounds. Marks of more torture were uncovered as the blood was washed from him. Wynne's lips were pressed into a thin line but there was bright anger in her eyes as she carefully cleaned and healed each wound. The manacles had left massive sores and infection had set in early destroying skin and flesh, even with the famed Warden resilience. Alistair rolled Dain to his stomach, moving back so Wynne could start on the ruined flesh and skin on his back. With a gasp Leiliana dove into his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder. It muffled her sobbing, her anger, her frustration of the last weeks.

"We shouldn't have waited so long. I should have gone straight away."

She said. Alistair puzzled out her words, but stroked her hair, kissing her brow.

"No, Dain knew what was going to happen. And perhaps we shouldn't have, but you know there was little we could do without a plan."

Slowly her tears stopped, but her face was still wet and her eyes red as she turned her head to look at Dain; still clinging to Alistair. Blue shone over Dain as Wynne worked. Sweat beading on her face at the depth of healing he required.

"Rory…"

Dain's mumbles got louder. The shimmer near the closed curtains wavered and Zevran finally released the illusion. None berated him.

"Who is that?"

No one could answer. But whoever they were, had been important, for tears started to pour from Dain's eyes even unconscious as he was.

* * *

><p>Wynne had healed him as he lay on the huge bed. He hadn't awoken but slept now in a mage proclaimed healthy natural sleep. Alistair sat in a chair nearby, though Wynne had healed his wounds, the flogging scars crisscrossed his back, showing the ribbons that had been left, the manacle scars. Leiliana sat on the bed, a hand stroking the short hair on his head.<p>

"I can't believe we didn't go after him."

"I do not think that Dain would have wanted that, an assault on Fort Drakon could very well have been suicide."

Riordin entered silently, looking at the only other two Wardens in Ferelden, eyes lingering on the unconscious Dain,

"I am glad to see his return. I think it could have been worse for both of you if you had been present with Cauthrien."

One eye lid, bruised deep purple opened, blurrily focussing on Alistair.

"His hair would have been ruined."

Dain croaked out, he managed to see the relieved grins on everyone's faces before he fell asleep once more.


	50. Chapter 50 The Commander is Back

_Wow, hasn't it just been ages since an update. Here it is for those who have been waiting though perhaps not with baited breath.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>The Commander is back<strong>

It had been slow. Everything had taken longer, taken effort. The surfacing from such a heavy sleep; so heavy he couldn't even remember the marching steps of dark spawn pounding inside his brain. The realisation of where he was had taken longer, the trek to open his eyes an eternity in that action itself. It was if he was surrounded by smoke and quite but buffeting explosions. The sudden opening of the door, so abrupt that in the time before he would have come to a stand with weapons bristling from every hand but now Dain just turned his head to the side and tried to focus on the one that entered. Wynne entered slowly closing the door behind her. In her hands a bowl of lightly steaming liquid, a soft towel draped over a wrist. She was halted in the doorway as she saw that those lids, still darkly bruised, were open and those sea green eyes were alight on her.

"Good morning Dain."

Lashes swept up and down a few times before his throat started to work. It took a few minutes, at which time Wynne was seated on a small stool at his bed side, the bowl on the table beside the bed.

"Wynne."

It was enough. Wynne gave him a small smile; she knew how much of an effort Dain had put in just for that word. Dain closed his eyes, just concentrating on the coolness the healer patted his face with. Until his mind decided suddenly switch into over drive. The heaviness that had been his time in Drakon flared into his mind. They caused him to flinch away from Wynne, rolling to the other side of the bed, resolutely and pointless pushing sore and screaming muscles to heave him up. But his will wasn't enough to make his muscles work, they couldn't push him enough to gain his feet. Wynne didn't move, just sat watching. When Dain stopped fighting, stopped pushing she looked at his unmoving back finally she reached down to pick up and fold the small rectangle of material. It was his voice breaking the almost awkward silence that made her jump. It wasn't coloured with the strength she always assumed with him. It wasn't weak, but it was no doubt different.

"I need your help Wynne."

She couldn't prevent that sigh she gave. But she would deny him nothing, she knew what he still had to face.

* * *

><p>Dain had not gone to the others first, instead he found himself relishing the time alone like he hadn't in the prison. This time it was a choice, of sorts. They didn't need him as a broken thing; they needed him as the leader he had been in the decision to go benevolently with Cauthrien. With ginger movements, though that was perhaps memory more than actual hurt now, he moved towards the kitchen. The cook and her girls there had just looked at his entrance with massive eyes. But true to form they placed plates of bread and meat before him. Replenishing empty dishes and mugs of ale when he slid them away empty but for crumbs and the glint of grease. His words of thanks were received with a nod from the cook, but giggles from the girls. Even after the rumours that they had heard and the silence around the top levels of the manse, here sat the Commander, Dain Cousland, despite what they said, tangible and real. Here he didn't wear his armour, though he had stood before it for a long time after Wynne had left him. Now he only wore simple leggings and a linen shirt, Duncan's dagger the only weapon. But he also had that unmistakable aura that still flowed around him.<p>

Servants whispered behind him as he strode up the stone steps towards Eamon's study, some even pointing to the visible marks peeping from the back of the unlaced shirt, at the manacle marks unhidden by the cuffs. Dain did his best to ignore them, choosing not to berate them, but also not able to turn his head or gaze to look at his whispering spectators. His steps were quiet, muffled further on the mats, only a thud on the stone. But even for his quiet passage it was enough to presage his presence and when he entered Eamon's room it was quiet and all faces were turned towards the door.

Anora was the only one sitting down, in Eamon's chair. He couldn't help but think that it looked like even now she was holding court. It did not impress him, but then in that same instant he thought back to those eyes that had been part of the catalyst that had pulled him from his cell. It was Alistair who moved first, his ready grin already primed on his lips. Pushing up from the book lined wall he strode to stand before Dain, not hiding the relief in his voice,

"You have no idea how good it is to see you."

Dain smiled at his brother, his voice quieter.

"Oh, I believe I have some idea."

Dain clapped Alistair on the shoulder, hand thudding into the armour that he wore even here. He found himself very careful not to look at the rough bracelet of scarred skin that was his newest addition. Shifting his gaze from Alistair Dain caught the eyes of Riordan. The older Warden saw the summons in that gaze and moved from his carefully chosen position and moved to take Alistair's position to stand before Dain, speaking first.

"I see Drakon left its mark on you, my friend."

Both men moved at the same, time clasping hands. Dain found himself choosing his words carefully, as if here his father and mothers lessons of diplomacy were even more pertinent.

"It did. But it was done for the right reasons. It is good to see you brother."

Riordan nodded, both knew now was not the time for further talk, not with such witnesses.

"I would speak with you later, with Alistair."

"Of course, if you would excuse me."

Dain inclined his head, the senior Warden walking out. Dain frowned as he followed the man. But it was gone when he turned back to still seated Anora and the obviously frustrated Eamon. He had watched with a narrowed focus as Dain appeared. Bruises that had been imbedded below hardened eyes since he had known that lad were now beaten into place by what had happened in Loghain's gaol. But here he was standing. Beaten and cracked perhaps, but Eamon realised now that there is what Dain meant when he had spoken to Leiliana and Alistair, that as a Warden he had still more to give. Green eyes settled on Anora not readable, but the woman also gave nothing away seemingly content to wait. Dain finally moved further into the room, his gait Eamon noticed was carefully at ease.

"What do we have?"

Alistair looked at Anora as if waiting for her speak first, when she did not Alistair took the fore,

"The Queen thinks that Howe and Loghain were, are, up to something in the Alienage. Zevran is checking if it is barricaded because of the reported disease outbreak, and if there is another entrance."

Dain nodded, lifting a hand to rub thoughtfully his chin.

"Has there been anything from Drakon?"

Eamon answered,

"Nothing yet, your exit was nearly the subtlest we could have hoped for. I have though had a request from the Bann of Dragon's Peak; I believe you may have something to do with the reappearance of his son?"

Staccato memory played in Dain's head; yes the blonde prisoner he had released from the chains of the rack. Outrage and pain had clouded the man's demeanour until he recognised Dain. He nodded as he tried to remember the boy's face.

"He was in the torture rooms below the castle. We released him and Wynne gave him enough healing to send him on his way back to his father. He also gave us his word that he would speak to the Bann about Howe's dealings and relationship with Loghain."

"Howe imprisoned a Bann's son?"

Dain looked at Anora who now stood anger in her eyes. He wasn't sure who to the anger was directed at. His reply was cool not showing his thought, but the words were loaded nonetheless.

"Surprised that your father could be in league with such a murderer?"

Her reply was as quick.

"No, not really Warden. More that he managed to keep it silenced for so long. What about Vaughan?"

"Urien's son? He was missing."

Eamon said; Dain looked at Alistair shaking his head.

"He's dead?"

Eamon said, seeing the look the Wardens shared, calling attention to it immediately. Dain sighed subtly but nodded forced to elaborate. Anora's eyes didn't leave him for a second though her face was unreadable.

"Howe imprisoned him to keep his title as Arl of Denerim after his father's death at Ostagar."

He was stopped by the Antivan accented words from behind him.

"We found an elf that he had imprisoned and tortured for standing up to him after he kidnapped his bride and the wedding party, so he could rape them."

Zevran leant on the door way, Dain turned immediately, a heavy frown aimed at the elf. It was enough to have Zevran dropping his eyes, but not enough to have him backing down. Dain turned back to the others, surprised at the shock on their faces. His anger rose that there should have been.

"Zev is correct. We found and released the elf. And got rid of Vaughn."

"Got rid of!?"

Anora said, moving to stand right before Dain, her eyes furious.

"You cannot 'get rid' of an Arl's son!"

Heavy brows frowned deep at her loud words. Alistair looking at Zevran who was already looking at him, the Warden unclear as to their reasoning, the assassin's for another reason altogether. There was no volume in Dain's voice; a stark opposite of Anora's, his authority was stamped in the wording of his reply.

"It has been done before."

For those that did not know the Commander, those words might have seemed defeated. Zevran moved to stand next to Eamon and Alistair, all three watching with now a perverse interest.

"That is a lie."

Dain's eyes narrowed, he didn't step forward but it was as if the menace of his past loomed behind him.

"No it is not. In fact, it was an Arl who killed a Teryn, Teryna, the heir and wife of the next Teryn. And indirectly the second son."

His words were uttered in a near bland fashion, enough emotion in the choice of words without delivering them with more.

"He not only got away with it, but it was allowed by another Teryn and the General of Ferelden's army. Afterwards he was gifted the title of Teryn of stolen Highever, naming himself the Arl of Denerim while also being that of Amaranthine."

Anora's face had paled the she did not look away from Dain. But he was not done.

"It would be foolish to think that you did not know of Vaughn's…leanings. I knew of them before I left for the Free Marches what he was and is capable of, I heard talk of his crimes across the sea."

Dain's eyes were hard.

"I suggest you be careful Anora, I still haven't decided whether we need you as much as you need us."

Eamon couldn't help the wince at the striking words from the man before him. Dain didn't though it wasn't what he really wanted to say, but she drew it out of him, and though she didn't really look like Loghain Mac Tir, she was definitely her father's daughter. What he said made the indignant fire in her eyes dull a little. Alistair's mouth was already open, Zevran with a grin on his face. Eamon was still caught in silence. Dain looked at the Queen, seeing if she would be move to a reply. She didn't so ain moved to the quiet trio, gathering Alistair and Zevran before leaving the silent room. All three falling into step.


	51. Chapter 51 Entering the Alienage

**Entering the Alienage**

It was sweat that marked the ground this time, not blood. It had poured from the two men as they had sparred in the courtyard. Now Dain and Alistair were collapsed on the ground, heaving in breaths though when they caught each other's eyes smiles appeared in their faces. Around them Leiliana darted smooth strikes against Oghren carrying on her own sparring, Zevran phasing in and out of sight as Sten watched with a calm mien for the assassin to reappear. This time the group had had spectators, servants and guards still watched, Eamon stood close to his men, all still in silence. Nothing had been pulled, no sweeping attacks or blunt strikes, for safety of either man. Eamon ran his fingers through his beard, had any thought been given to Dain and his brutal extended stay in the dungeons of Drakon? It hadn't been apparent. Alistair had led the first series of attacks, showing his own martial skill, nothing on his face but concentration and utter focus. Perhaps those watching had thought that Dain would be softer would be more careful, both of the son of Maric or of his own body, but his replies had been as brutal as Alistair's. Bracing a hand on the ground Dain pushed himself up, relishing far more than he thought the painful thrum in each of his muscles, the throb of bruised pain where Alistair had managed to get past his shield and guard. And he was grateful to his brother who had not treated him as if broken or cracked, attacking him with the same fervour their sparring sessions had always held. He offered a hand to Alistair who took it, wiping his forehead on his shoulder.

"We have to see Riordan."

"We?"

Dain frowned a little but shrugged,

"If you want to get your ass handed to you by Sten or Oghren instead, be my guest."

That proposition made Alistair chuckle and he turned to look at the red haired dwarf whose grin presaged an interesting bout.

* * *

><p>"Riordin."<p>

The Orleisian warden smiled as he turned at his name. He had been thinking hard upon on the man who now stood before him. When Dain had appeared in that dungeon where he had been languishing for so long, he had been surprised. That had been something Riordan didn't think he would feel again, especially after what he had found at Ostagar. He'd been fooled for an instant in thinking that Duncan had returned. Tall, grizzled and confident in his abilities without being overt, this newest Warden had impressed the other without saying a word. Even in Denerim guard armour there had been something different about this one. Riordan had read Duncan's recruitment notes, learnt in the Ferelden Warden Commander's own words what he thought of each recruit, their potential and where they came from. Though Duncan had gone to Highever under the pretence of testing the knight Ser Roland Gilmore, he hadn't been able to deny the interest he felt for the recently returned youngest son. But it had also been noted early on what was the boy's perhaps fault, the fury that was quick to bloom turning him into a self-destructing force. Riordin knew that such abilities could be moulded into something constructive, a killing machine set against the Wardens' foe, the terrible path given to Dain and Alistair had gone someway in turning Dain into the capable leader that had been hinted at and an utterly vicious fighter. The noble even following Duncan's footsteps as the Warden Commander. Riordin already found it odd how he deferred somewhat to Dain, though the other man didn't notice or thought nothing of it, perhaps he knew it as his due. At his side strode the massive mabari, trotting up to him to have his cropped ears rubbed. Dain walked closer, oblivious to the scrutiny he was under from Riordin who had only smiled his welcome. He had taken off his armour after his spar with Alistair, though here he wasn't unarmed, there was the sheathed knife at his right hip that Riordan recognised as being Duncan's. Dain once more wore a simple tunic shirt and breeches, smooth well tooled boots reached to his knee. His Warden Oath sat above his shirt, visible to the other whose own was still hidden beneath his leather armour. With the pendant sat another, a simple silver disc with an archaic Chantry symbol carved into the front.

"It is a pleasure Dain."

Dain couldn't see any marks on Riordan that would have shown his stay in Howe's dungeon.

"Are you healed and rested from your incarceration?"

Riordin nodded, taking the seat that Dain offered with a wave, that he had scorned. Dain didn't pace, but braced a hip on the desk. Grimm lowered himself to the ground at Dain's feet, content to pant at his master's side.

"Is there anything you can tell me that will help Alistair and I in actually pulling this off?"

It was raw and straight to the point. Riordin was moved to a laugh, steepling his hands before him, looking through the cradle of fingers at the man whose eyebrows had risen in question at Riordan's response.

"I think that you and Alistair have been doing well so far, perhaps better than the harsh judgement you critique yourselves with. From what I have heard, you have had all the Warden treaties honoured, saved Arl Eamon from a terrible death and given yourself his counsel and voice at the Landsmeet and done this with the grace and respect of the Wardens kept. I do not think that there is much that I can tell you that will help more than what you have learnt already."

"Can you tell me more about the Wardens?"

Riordin relaxed back into his chair,

"I can tell you stories of those who were Wardens though Alistair could also. I can tell you what it means to be a Warden, though the latter I think you already have covered."

There, Dain gave a small smile, but crossed his arms across his chest.

"In the market quarter there is a warehouse, inside behind a complex lock is the Warden stockpile, it has been kept for centuries. Take and use what you need for whatever you are planning. I can sketch you a diagram of how to bypass the door."

Riordan stood; the earnestness that entered the senior Warden's voice reminded Dain of Leiliana.

"I am glad that you and Alistair survived Ostagar, I think that you both are really the best chance for ending this Blight."

Dain couldn't help the flash of memory, Duncan as he was in Highever's hall, then as he was fallen on the field of Ostagar.

"And you Riordin, what are you planning to do?"

"I will be leaving Denerim shortly; I will track the horde, and try to find the Archdemon."

There was silence before Dain broke it,

"Alistair and I saw it, in the Deep Roads. Calling and leading thousands of dark spawn. This is a Blight Riordin, but they still do not believe."

"At the end of the last Blight they thought that it was the end of the spawn, it is the burden of the Wardens to know that it wasn't. Many do not and will not until they see for themselves. The fact that you know the truth will maybe be enough. You have seen them, and us, this far Commander."

Dain nodded, and watched the senior Warden bow to him then leave the room, leaving him in quiet thought. Taking a breath he pushed up from the desk.

"So Zevran, where is Alistair?"

With a distortion in the corner of his eye, Zevran appeared, a barely sheepish grin on his face.

"He is busy with his lady, Dain."

Dain pursed his lip, thinking,

"What have you learnt about the Alienage?"

"There is talk of a disturbance, something more than this 'sickness', though the gates are unbarred there is little traffic out of the Alienage. I heard the elf maid Erlina speaking with the Queen, that she worries her father and Howe had something planned even for the elves. I ask that I come with you."

The man nodded, though it seemed absentminded,

"Nothing would surprise me where he is concerned. Alistair will have to dunk his head in a trough to cool down, come Zevran we head to the Alienage."

"I think that the Queen wants you to go and speak with her in quarters."

Dain couldn't miss the innuendo that flooded that sentence.

"I'll see her later."

Zevran grinned.

"Is the lovely Leiliana coming too?"

Dain shook his head,

"No, Morrigan…And Grimm."

The mabari thinking that he had been forgotten had nipped Dain's fingers with a low growl. The elf didn't ask why the witch was coming with them. He lengthened his stride and then quickened it to match the Warden's, who didn't notice.

"What do you think they had in mind for the Alienage?"

"I do not know. But I do not think that it could be anything good."

Zevran opened his mouth to say something more, but closed it as if he couldn't find the right words. He opened it to try again.

"I am glad Dain. That you let that elf go. After what he had been through. And for what you did to Vaughan."

Dain didn't stumble, didn't miss a step, but he frowned heavily.

"What I did was murder, worse than that. I killed the rightful Arl, it made me like Howe. Do you understand? Whatever he did, I shouldn't have killed him, however I have justified it, to myself and the others…to the Queen."

This time Zevran said nothing, whatever surrounded Dain as he spoke was akin to menace, the servants in the hall looked at the two men as they strode past, but none spoke, none ventured a word. They merely watched.

"You had too; you knew what he had done."

Here Dain stopped, turning to look Zevran in the face. Gone was the smiling, grinning easy going Dain. Here was the one he had watched kill Howe.

"I had too…that Vaughan was a pustule of a person I do not deny. But I don't have to tell you of the many types of people in the world. You kill people for money, you tried to kill me. And you are an elf. Does it matter that Vaughn was a human and he raped and murdered elves? I saved you when I could have and have been told should have killed you. By this logic I should have killed you. Vaughn was an animal, and he died like one. But in doing that I have broken an oath I gave to my father. He cannot be proud of me, because in killing Vaughan I have done what his murderer did."

Zevran watched in actual pain as Dain spoke in a low voice, on his face was utter destruction. Zevran wanted to speak to offer something, but he couldn't utter a word even if he could muster a thought, something to string together.

"Go and get Morrigan. Then get Alistair and Leiliana to meet me outside. I can't even look at you right now."

And he turned his face away; Zevran was still for a few seconds before he left the Warden standing with a silent mabari.

"Lover's tiff?"

Morrigan was of course the one to brave the quiet fury that surrounded Dain. Leiliana and Alistair had said nothing, but had darted knowing looks at each other remembering how Zevran had looked when he had knocked on the door to their room. Pale and unable to look them in their face, quickly telling them to meet Dain before disappearing down the hallway. The group now they strode through the packed market place towards the entrance to the alienage, ignoring the calls of the hawkers and the playing children avoiding the group with a wide berth. Dain hadn't said a thing since before they left Eamon's estate but at Morrigan's words he stopped and turned to face her. Leiliana saw the sly smile on her face die at whatever she saw on Dain's. Grimm punctuating it with a continuous and savage growl even baring his teeth at the woman.

"Morrigan, I ask that you keep that forked tongue hidden. This is your only warning. Next time it will be separated from your mouth."

"You would dare!?"

Dain felt like he wanted Morrigan to attack him. To feel anything other than the crush of emptiness he felt. He even stepped forward but didn't touch the mage, Alistair and Leiliana watched helpless unsure if he saw the lightning snapping and arcing from her fingers. And if he did whether he actually cared.

"I do. And you know enough of me that I would succeed. Now, anything more to say?"

She frowned and strode away, still heading for the Alienage gates. Dain narrowing his eyes after her before following. He ignored the whines from Grimm, the mabari settling for walking pressed up against Dain's legs, causing him to stumble but never moving from the close position.

It wasn't like anything Dain had expected. It brought him to an abrupt halt, the miasma of disease, dirt and filth that erupted from the gates. Behind that the hum of discontented noise, Dain looked to Alistair,

"Sounds like somebody is angry, perhaps more so than the outbreak of disease would suggest?"

"What did you say in the Brecelian? Nothing is ever easy or straight forward."

Alistair managed to grin but it was followed by a shrug.

"Hearts of gold us Grey Wardens."

Grimm was the one to venture first into the Alienage, nose going into overdrive. Morrigan had a permanent sneer on her face while Leiliana seemed close to tears as they passed two young elves, clutching tighter to each other as the group moved further in. Coughs racked their bodies.

"Perhaps the plague is a real danger here."

Leiliana said, Morrigan studied the children.

"It could be a type of blight sickness. If that is the case, there is probably little to be done."

Pulling their attention from the doomed children they moved to the source of the noise, shouting elves and surprising two bearded mages.

"Tevinter mages? Here?"

Leiliana said in shock. Dain narrowed his eyes, here would be the link to Loghain and Howe no doubt. A red haired female elf seemed to be receiving most of the anger of the waiting elves, despite yelling and shouting at both her kin and the mages she was shoved out of the gathering, falling to her knees before Dain. He offered his hand, but was surprised at the hate that was in her eyes as she picked herself up ignoring his hand.

"You here to shepherd the rest of us shem!"

"Ah, no. We are here to help."

Cynicism and fright was on her face as she spat out her retort,

"Help us? Like they are helping us! Helped Valendrian and my uncle Cyrion to never be seen again!"

Dain's reply was like a shock of cold water to the vicious elf.

"No help as in how we helped free the other elf in the dungeons."

"Soris? You're the ones who helped Soris?"

"Yes, we are. How is he? Wynne healed him enough to return home?"

Leiliana said in a calm voice. The elf changed her focus to the Orleisian.

"Oh, he is home. I didn't realise you were the ones who released him. Thank you for saving my brother. I'm Shianni."

Dain nodded, but his attention was taken from the slim elf to the calls of the larger group around the two mages. Whatever façade they were putting forward, there was no way the Revered Mother would allow mages let alone Tevinter mages into Denerim and an Alienage, it had to be part of a bigger plot.

"What is happening here? There hasn't been any news of the arrival of Tevinter mages in the Alienage."

Shianni turned her head aside and spat violently, it still colouring her voice when she spoke.

"They say they are helping us, but some of the elves they take into the hospice aren't even sick. They took our hahren Valendrian and Uncle Cyrion."

"Looks like we have our first lead."

"They won't let you in. Their soldiers will fight you."

"Then we need to find another entrance."

* * *

><p>The guard at the door had desisted in defence of the rear door rather quickly. Those inside were more vehement. As Dain fought he took in the weapons, a long sword that had serrations carved deeply into its length. A ripple of magic from Morrigan gave Leiliana an opening, and with blades dull now with a poison she slid around them with slow movements injuring enough for the poison to start working. It did and quickly, it seemed to slow the soldiers down enough for Alistair and Dain to kill them. When it was done Leiliana slid her blades onto her back and with movements showing old skill in refilling through papers and desks, set to defiling the large desk and cabinets set in the corner of the room. Dain kept his sword in hand and booted in the door. Screams sounded and he froze. No enemies in here, instead cages holding elves. Of all ages, some had been badly beaten. Some still rattled the bars of the cage. A few children had their eyes tightly closed, clutching at an older elf who looked as if she would give up her own life if the children needed it. Dain just sheathed his knife and beckoned Morrigan in,<p>

"We are here to help you. Morrigan, help those that need it."

The atmosphere in the room lightened a little at the show and a few of the elves that had been lying down managed to gain their feet.

"Is Valendrian here? Or…Cyrion?"

"No they were taken before, out the back of the apartments."

A weary elf said, an eye closed with massive swelling even still.

"The way out front is not clear, we'll unlock the door but you must wait until we have cleared the mages and their guards from the Alienage."

Leiliana appeared with a grin on her face and a stiff parchment envelope in her hand, it died when she saw what Dain had found.

"Dain I found…oh."

She passed the envelope to Dain and with swift movements unpicked the heavy locks. Dain didn't draw the parchment inside the envelope out to read it, instead he passed it to Morrigan who sniffed but slid it into her belt, hefting her staff into her hand.

"Alistair you'll be out first, take out the mages with some Templar cleanse, Leiliana pepper them with arrows. The sooner the mages are out of play the better. Morrigan, take the rear door and try not to get hit by Alistair. Grimm, make sure nothing gets to either of them."

The elves watched the group pull weapons into their hands, shems, humans who were willing to help them.

"There is a balcony on the building adjacent; if your archer could get there she would have a better vantage point."

The one eyed elf said. Leiliana giggled and offered him a smile of blinding proportions. He stuttered and she was gone out the rear door followed by an unimpressed Morrigan and a mabari who was trying to get her attention by nearly tripping her up.

"Just you and me Dain."

"After you by all means."

Alistair lifted a foot and booted the door open, a ripple of magic billowing out as he centred his spiritual attack on the two bearded and surprised mages outside. Dain followed him with a yell, colliding with a soldier squarely on his shield.


	52. Blood Mages and Slave Traders

**Blood mages and slave traders**

"Wow. He stooped even lower than I thought he could go."

Alistair said. Punctuating his words with a thrust to an archer's chest which pierced both his armour and his torso. Dain hadn't thought that Loghain could get much lower than regicide but apparently selling citizens into slavery was an acceptable outcome of civil war. The female elf covering her leader's ass had barricaded herself behind a row of traps and was raining arrows upon them all. Alistair frowned and quickly brought up his shield as a projectile whined towards his head. It struck his shield denting it hard. Leiliana skipped close to him to use his shield for a breather,

"If you cover me I'll do something about those traps."

Dain heard the exchange and saw the two move as one towards the obstacles as he backhanded across a soldier's stomach. Alistair was bracing hard at each arrow strike, wincing at the strength of the strikes. The shield was strong and big, but not big enough to cover both of them. Time wasn't a luxury they had. Something needed to be done and now. Frustration at the slowness of their passage and the head rush of the forthcoming Landsmeet helped him make up his mind.

"Morrigan hold this."

He half tossed her the sword, the electricity in her hand dying abruptly as she managed to catch the heavy sword and keep her staff in her hand.

"Dain, you…!"

Braced behind his shield, Dain grabbed the shoulder plate of a not quite dead enemy and dragged him over to the traps. Alistair yelped and grabbed Leiliana to pull her back out of the way. It wasn't a proper throw, but it was enough to have the soldier tripping the pressure plate of all three traps. They shut with terrible snaps, crushing bones and armour, splintering fragments through skin. It stopped the fighting, Devera looking at Dain with shock. He was surprised to see it; she worked for a magister master and traded in the flesh of her own kin. He half turned to Morrigan who offered his sword; he took it and turned back to Devera who was looking at him still with horror and anger on her face. He shrugged but before anyone moved to continue the fight a bolt of lightning fired just past him, giving Dain a shock that fizzed through his armour before slamming into Devera, her bow not doing anything to shield her. Dane bit his lip but leapt forward to continue the fight. Alistair was at his side and it was he who put Devera out of her misery with a quick downwards thrust. They stood there panting hard, Leiliana averting her eyes from the utter mess of the man still held in the sprung teeth of the traps.

"Would you rather it t'was one of us?"

"Just because I've seen it before doesn't mean that I like or am used to it."

Leiliana snapped back at the witch. Who took no umbrage to the words or tone used. Dain snorted,

"I would prefer not to have that happen again…."

There was something else he needed to say but no matter how much he knew he had to say it, it was still galling.

"I apologise for before."

Eyebrows rose, Morrigan's narrowed perhaps sensing an ulterior motive. Grimm whined at her, his wheedling gaze making the witch shuffle a little further way.

"Very well. Shall we find the one responsible?"

Dain nodded following the witch as she opened the door. Grimm trotted after them.

The screams and cries from the elves shoved into cages was terrible. As the group entered and silently walked down the stairs, the caged elves tried to hold their cries behind hands and with clenched eyes. A bald man with a long beard arose from perusing the elves. He wore robes, heavy fur around his shoulders. Along the seams and across the chest heavy gold decoration shone.

"Ah. Guests."

Dain had sheathed his sword, but felt a shiver as he looked at the mage before him and it made him want to have the weapon in his hands. The mage stopped in the centre of the room, arms at ease at his side as he looked at each one in the group.

"Well met Warden. I am Caladrius, I have heard much about you and your _friends_."

Dain's eyes narrowed at the ease at which Caladrius had introduced himself and that with which he carried himself. Even with the soldiers in the room with him, the mage had to be feeling some pressure from the five before him covered in the blood of those he had ordered to keep the flow of slaves steady. Grimm's growl hadn't stopped even when Caladrius spoke, cropped ears lying flat on his head, teeth bared and waiting.

"How do you know who I am?"

A smug smile lifted Caladrius' lips,

"I am well informed of the happenings of the city of late. As it transpires, the dealings with the Regent are now often flavoured with the word 'warden'."

While it was proof of Loghain's further treachery Dain knew he would have to have something solid to show Eamon. But Caladrius had turned his gaze to Alistair,

"And not just that, but we are in the presence of the royal bastard who would be king."

Alistair snorted,

"The slaver calling me the bastard. Fancy that."

"But in hearing of you I have also heard of your prowess, and that of your comrades. So I propose I give you the letter of Loghain's that you came here no doubt seeking, in return I leave with my profit and my merchandise."

It was still and quiet again. Dain just held Caladrius' eyes. To the others it may have looked like he was actually musing on accepting the deal. But inside Dain's mind was the fact that Caladrius had made the offer like he thought he would accept it. Nothing in Dane's history had given him a predilection for slavery. His mind flicked back to that night at Highever, Iona and her speaking of her daughter…what was her name? Amalthea? Amy…Amethyne! His gaze lost Caladrius' and he looked at the elves shrinking back from him.

"I have a counter proposal for you."

A hand rose to brush his beard, an inquiring smile on Caladrius' face.

"Interesting…?"

Dain's reply was punctuated by a savage grin.

"I kill you and take everything for free."

Alistair knew it. As soon as Dain's words had finished, regardless of whatever Caladrius' reply would be, words or action, he had taken a deep breath and had focussed his Templar abilities on the Tevinter before him. Dain spun, gathering a protesting Morrigan moving to take her out of the range of anything Alistair was about to unleash. She understood, able to keep her feet when he dropped her,

"Kill him."

"With pleasure."

Dain though, turned to take on the sword bearing soldiers, clashing weapons not as loud as the brutal rushing sound of Alistair's cleanse, and the strike of Morrigan's magic, punctuated by her laughter and the screams of elves.

* * *

><p>"Wait, wait. Stop!"<p>

It was barely enough to check Dane's strike. He glared down at Caladrius, the mage covered in blood, weeping cuts on his arms where he'd tried to conjure a defence through blood magic. Dain wasn't much cleaner, eyes the brightest thing on his face, shining through the mask of blood. Caladrius clambered at the stone floor, trying to sit up. As if to beg. But Dain knew, no matter what he said, if he hadn't taken the Tevinter's offer previously, there was nothing he could say to have him accept the next.

"Please, how about I…"

The sword wiped through the working throat of Caladrius mid word. Whatever he was going to use to barter gone in an exhalation of blood and air.

"No."

This was a different type of brutality that Caladrius' now unemployed guards hadn't seen. But now they were fighting purely for their lives. The fighting was still hard, guards throwing everything they had left at their enemies. But it wasn't to be. With the final swift arrow finding a slot of unarmoured armpit, the last soldier fell and the room was still. Dain propped his shield on Caladrius' blood stained body and turned to the cages. Finesse was useless and unneeded; instead he destroyed the locks with heavy movements.

"Is Cyrion here? Or Valendrian?"

"I am Valendrian. Cyrion was taken before."

The faint voice belonged to an elder elf, face lined not just with age but heavy sorrow. He exited the cage and stood before Dain.

"Do you need healing?"

He was surprised to see a smile on the elf's face.

"No, no. A rest in my own home will suffice. Though I fear sleep could be a long time coming. I am the elder of the Alienage."

"My name is Dain, I am a Warden. I came here at the… request of Shianni."

Laughter now.

"Request? Shianni? But I think you also came to find evidence to the rumour of the regent."

There was no point in lying or putting up a pretence.

"Yes. But liberating the alienage from these is also a happy outcome."

Dain didn't even look at the corpses around him as he reduced them further to slabs of meat.

"So we really are free to go."

"Yes. The Chantry will be informed of the Tevinters, and hopefully there will be some movement on the plague."

"We can but dream. I will see to my kind, Dain. But I would be honoured if you could come to see me tomorrow. I would like to speak with you again."

Dain watched the still silent elves exit their cage, shepherded by Valendrian out the now unlocked door. Leaving Dain and his group alone in the room. He turned to see Leiliana rifling through Caladrius' clothes a small pile of treasures at her side.

"The letter is…here."

She offered it to him. But Dain felt loath to touch it, even with his hands in gloves, as if the paper was soaked with blood. But he did, unfolding it, eyes darting from side to side as he read of Loghain's damning.

"Eamon will need to see this."

"He will."

Then Dain realised that was the last piece. The last step before the Landsmeet. Alistair caught his eye as he glanced up, a grin on his face; he must have realised the same.

"You ready for this?"

Dain wasn't sure what answer he could give, but Grimm did it for him. The mabari, still licking his stained mouth yipped in what could only be called affirmation.

* * *

><p>Dain both did and didn't want to return back to the alienage. The feeling that had pushed him to not listen to Caladrius, that spur of goddamn guilt when he thought of Iona and the blue eyed daughter she had left behind here in Denerim… He didn't know what to say to her, if she was even alive. Between the purge of the alienage, the slavers and the plague. Standing next to the Vhenadahl tree, stretching into the sky, seemed to be an anchor and he paused here. The yards were empty, but he could hear the sounds of joy behind closed doors, but also the sound of mourning.<p>

"Do you reckon the children climb it?"

Alistair said from his elbow; face tilted back to gaze into the branches.

"I think it's more of a representation of their past, rather than a plaything."

"Still. Looks like fun."

Leiliana took Alistair's arm and gently pulled him away, afraid he would drop his weapons and make good on his question. Dain turned to follow after them, promising himself that on his return he would ask Valendrian about Amethyne. Tomorrow.


	53. Chapter 53 An Audience with the Queen

_I have rewritten this tons of times, I could never get it to really work. But at last here it is. Not the longest version. But yeah... I'd appreciate any feedback. Thanks._

* * *

><p><strong>An audience with the Queen<strong>

Dain thought heavily upon Eamon's words. His place as Cailan's uncle gave him some insight into Anora, as it had with Loghain. For all his insider knowledge, for how the Banns and Arls reacted to Anora, previously before the blight, it had been a story that he had told of Anora as a child that had given Dain a position to broach. Golden pigtails and long lashes, ensnaring Cailan with possibly womanly wiles, but why? Because he was the future King, because he was power. But why did she want power? What would she do to gain it, keep it? His brows nearly joined with the force of his thought, trying to force his mind from remembering her eyes. Alistair had given him a look that said, better you than me. The woman didn't frighten Alistair, he knew that, but the former Templar was infinitely more wary around her. Something that Dain knew he shouldn't ignore, perhaps a fact that he should even embrace. He had drawn up outside her closed door, perhaps to find some sort of clue as to how to face her. Of all the foes, friends and potential allies, this was the first that having a sword would certainly hinder rather than help. Even as he stared at the whorls of wood on the door, he couldn't help but remember the words he spoke to her the day before, that he maybe didn't need her as much as she needed him, them. Would that work against him? Tiring of the questions rotating in his head he lifted a hand to rap at the door. It was Erlina who opened it an instant later, as if she had been waiting behind the door precisely for his appearance. She curtseyed, a show of manners she hadn't shown him before, especially when he had returned with her Queen. But he nodded, entering and looking for Anora. She was seated at an ornate seat, but there was a smile on her face when she saw him. But for the life of him he could not decipher what emotion it conveyed. Even here, not in her throne room, not entertaining a court, she looked like a queen. Despite what Howe had done, whatever Loghain had thought no matter his part in the 'kidnapping' of his daughter, she had never lost the mantle of entitlement, of rulership. He felt compelled to bow, but remembering Alistair and Eamon's words he gave her a formal bow, recognition of her status as the widow of the deceased King, Maker avoid her eyes. Dain scorned the chair, despite Erlina's gesture to it.

"I am fine, thank you."

"Warden, I appreciate you coming to speak with me. Did you find anything useful in the Alienage?"

He had been looking for something, for a sign in her face, something in her voice that meant she had known. But there was nothing but a question.

"Your father had been selling elves to Tevinter slavers to finance his war."

She had to know he had deliberately used those words, that there was not for him, as a Warden, a difference between her and her father. There was something she had to prove.

"I am disappointed to say that I cannot find it surprising. And that is distressing. First the plague and now such a thing."

It seemed like genuine sadness, or maybe just regret. Dain didn't think he would ever decipher this woman. But when her eyes, which had lost his in a decidedly calculating move, flicked up to his face, he could see what Eamon had meant. He was an instrument, if he could be used for her purpose.

"I asked you to come here for another reason Warden."

Dain didn't answer but looked at her with what he hope was ease. Her personality and aura was undeniable but it was her eyes…

"I find myself in the position to ask for your support."

"Is the position unpleasant?"

She snorted a little at his riposte. Anora stood, flinging her skirts back as she made to stride the width of the room before spinning to look at him.

"Ferelden needs a strong leader. I would think it was fairly obvious, even to one who was not in the country for several years, that it was I who ruled through the name of Cailan. She will need my guidance to survive the blight and the civil war."

"She was placed in this position by your father."

"A fact that is quite crystal clear thank you Warden."

Dain couldn't help the grin at the venom he had drawn from her. Erlina watched, her face carefully schooled to stillness. She had been surprised at the fervour that Anora had paced the room the hour before Dain had arrived, heavy lines between her brows as she thought on would take place. But now Erlina wasn't sure if the time had been in good use.

"Arl Eamon favours the traditional approach. A male approach. 'The line of Kings succeeds through his sons', I believe he said. Particularly poignant as I have heard of what swims through the blood of his only son."

Both Erlina and Anora saw the flicker of anger cross like a shadow in Dain's eyes. It would be folly of him to think that she wouldn't know, a queen with her own lines of communication, of inquiry, but this was cutting dangerously fine to cutting off her nose to spite her face. He also gave no answer. Anora moved back to her chair, alighting back it in, placing her full skirts just so before speaking once more.

"I am a strong Queen; I am as beloved by my people as I love them."

Dain waited for the bargain, for he and Anora knew that the other wouldn't sanction the giving without the receiving.

"In return for your support at the Landsmeet, I will give you whatever I can, as Queen, to help you end the blight."

That was it. She had to know that as a Warden, especially as the Warden Commander, that the resolution of the blight was his goal. But surely she knew that he could sweep her aside and place Alistair, willing or not, on the throne he would get that anyway? He was so careful to show nothing of his thoughts on his face; he needed to stay even and balanced. He needed the power that he could feel Anora setting her heart upon. But a Warden in her back pocket? That is precisely what he knew the other Banns and Arls would see any relationship with her as.

"I know of what you think. But does Alistair possess the qualities needed and expected of a King?"

He so very nearly barked out that Alistair did, more than enough! That he had given everything this past year to the Wardens to Ferelden and still stood! But Dain didn't, hoping that she would read his silence as something else, that her cunning and intelligence would dupe him more surely than he could. It seemed that Anora was content for silence as well. Erlina was the one who moved, placing two goblets on the low table between the two, pouring dark wine from a delicate jug. Once done she moved back to her place and returned to watching the two.

"I am glad that you are well."

Dain couldn't have stopped the alacrity with he which had looked up into Anora's face.

"I was unaware that you were Eleanor's youngest."

"Yes, I am well. But even if I wasn't, wouldn't you still be glad?"

Again that soft snort and a glint of a smile. The stillness gone Anora leant forward to snare a drink, taking a graceful sip before replying.

"Yes, I would. I would also have liked to order Cauthrien down, but I could see that what you were doing would save all of us."

"You had faith I would survive Drakon."

It wasn't a question, but Dain punctuated his words with an action. Leaning forward to snare his own wine. In doing so letting the sleeve of the shirt he wore to ride up. Showing the ridges of healed scars, shadows of the manacles he had worn. He didn't want to see what look Anora gave as she saw them, it seemed enough that she had seen them.

"I did. But it does beg the question why?"

"Faith?"

"No, that you would do so for me, for the Queen, when you have Eamon's choice in Alistair safe and sound."

He didn't have a reply, not without losing himself in the real life vision of her eyes.

"Thank you. For giving yourself when it would have been easier to give me up. I'm sure Eamon had some choice words for you regarding that."

Did she know that in moving for her he had had the best opportunity for getting to and ending Howe? His reply was easy though, strange that it was.

"It wouldn't have been easier. I did what was right. I did what I did to keep you safe."

And he was undone with that. Erlina knew it for she swapped studying him for her mistress. Anora had gone stiff, eyes wider at his unguarded words. To keep her safe. From Howe, or her for her or as the Queen? He knew she had questions, he could see them rising like he had seen Leiliana fervently trying to still and keep her words at bay. Pretence had foundered and Dain knew it was he who had been lost. He bent to place the wine back on the table,

"I need to face the blight with Ferelden at my side, not baying for blood behind it."

"Then you shall have it with me as Queen."

Dain nodded, and turned. Leaving Anora and Erlina in silence, but looking wonderingly at each other.

* * *

><p>"Are you worried what will happen when he speaks to Anora?"<p>

Leiliana said, reclining further in the velvet chair, watching Alistair continue to try and clean his sword. He had been at it for nearly half an hour and seemed to be getting nowhere. But at her words he paused.

"No."

"Then…?"

"I know that you know that Eamon thinks I am afraid of Anora. But I am not. I am angry at her and I do not trust her. I know she is a good Queen and that she has been ruling Ferelden. But besides everything she is the daughter of a traitor."

"So you cannot trust her with the reins to Ferelden?"

"I cannot trust that she would do what is right for Ferelden. I feel that she would do what is right for herself before and above everything and anyone else."

Leiliana knew that she looked at Alistair differently to anyone else, he had let her inside his heart, but he had rarely spoken to her about being King. Indeed it had been uncrossable territory, it frightened her, his potential loss with their fighting the darkspawn, but losing him to his royal blood had been frightening though she would admit nothing. But she found herself changing from her easy position, setting her feet to the carpet,

"So, why are you worrying?"

"That to end the blight we need that sort of ruthlessness."

Leiliana slid to the ground, forcing Alistair to place the sword to the side. She gripped his knees and placed a kiss on his cheek. When she made to shuffle back his arms settled around her, pulling her close for a lingering embrace.

"I love you."

"Me too."


	54. Chapter 54 How can he be proud of me?

_Funny how it works, but you have writers block for months, then when assignments are due, here write this fun stuff instead. Awesome._

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><p><strong>How can he be proud of me?<strong>

It was past midnight, but Dain couldn't sleep. Not that he had tried, instead spending the last few hours wearing a path down the length of his room. The events of the day, from those words he had barked so harshly at Zevran, the words that had given form to the damage he had done to the promise to his father, the Alienage and the proof of such evil and then his heart bursting from his lips in a few sentences. A wriggling worm of regret seemed to squirm every time he replayed those words in his head, but it was another thing to find the words to fix those actions. There was nothing he could do about Anora, but there had to be something he could do for the others… Gesturing for Grimm to stay; the mabari not putting up even the pretension of a fight from his sprawled position on the bed, Dain left the room. The hallway was lit by the wavering light of flame sconces, he didn't know if she would be awake, but she had been there surely she would know something, could offer him something. His knock was muffled, but he could hear her footsteps. The door opened only a crack, her face showing concern as she recognised him.

"Dain, are you alright?"

When he managed to shake his head she opened the door. It seemed even Wynne hadn't been sleeping either, a lamp turned deep into the oil was on a small side table next to a soft chair, a steaming pot of what smelt like tea next to it. Wynne had her hair down and was wrapped in a robe, ties crossed hard across her waist.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't…"

She smiled,

"Nonsense, come in. Come."

He did, gingerly. Wynne closed the door and returned to her chair, but kept her eyes on Dain. Here he didn't pace instead stood awkwardly.

"Have a seat."

She offered. Dain started as she spoke before bending to pull the small ottoman from under the end of the bed. His knees bent high as he sat on it, looking more like the boy he felt inside. He completed the image by clasping his hands before him, searching in his entwined fingers for something to say.

"Would you like some tea?"

She didn't wait for an answer, instead pouring one and offering it to him. He took it mechanically, blowing on the liquid before sipping at it.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"I think I need to talk about Vaughan."

Wynne nodded her head, seeing both Vaughan and the young injured elf in her mind. Dain sighed several times, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to figure out where to start. When Dain couldn't offer anything Wynne offered some thoughts.

"Zevran was very quiet today. He made no comments about my bosom nor rose to Oghren's remarks. He didn't say anything, but the servants were speaking about a conversation in the halls that was frightening. Our time in the dungeons were riddled with blood, defined by Howe's, but more than he died there. What Vaughan did was bad, yes the worst. A decision had to be made; perhaps you may have been counselled to accept Vaughan's word to stand by the Wardens in the Landsmeet. But like you said you knew of what Vaughan was capable, evidence of that staring us in our face from that tiny little cell, could you have trusted his promise, could you have lived with the blood that would stain his hands after his release. That he would have spared that elf, any of the elves, after what happened?"

It wasn't any different to what he had told himself, but he had been unable to convince himself was the truth.

"I know this Wynne. I couldn't let him free after what he had done, I didn't want too. But..."

"That is not the issue? Then is it?"

His biting reply was telling.

"I failed my father in killing Vaughan."

Wynne's gaze softened. Dain didn't look up from the surface of the tea, not drinking it, just looking into the dark liquid as if he could see something there. Then she noticed the pendant that had fallen free from his shirt, the necklace that the spirit of his father in the Gauntlet had offered. Tears gathered in her eyes and for a few minutes she didn't see the Commander in the man before her, but she found the boy who had been ripped from a family in the worst possible way.

"You cannot hold onto this Dain."

He was silent for a long time, holding the cup in his palms, just looking at the steam rising from the surface. Words that he couldn't previously think to say suddenly found purchase on his tongue.

"I left them for a long time when I was sent to the Marches. I had only returned to them for a couple of weeks and then…"

Wynne didn't follow his words, and found herself leaning forward to hear them better. She could see the tension in his tendons as he gripped the cup. Tea wasn't right for this conversation. She stood and moved to the side board. Filling two glasses with dark wine, she offered one to Dain. Then prised his hands free from the tea cup and replacing them around the goblet. She sipped at her own and then asked in a soft voice,

"Why did they send you away?"

"I was angry. All the time."

Dain slung back the wine, stood and refilled it and sat again on the small padded stool.

"I hurt someone when we were training. I seriously hurt another at a tourney, a Bann's son, one sworn to my father. I was a disappointment to him, and he sent me away."

Wynne felt the tears loom in her eyes once more, enough so she had to lift a hand to wipe them away.

"I was away from home for years. I tried to so hard to fix what was wrong. But now, now I think that the anger that we tried to fix has served me well as a Warden. Without it I don't know if I would have found Howe, or survived the Deep Roads. Ha, let alone the Joining."

"Oh Dain. I don't think your father could be anything but proud of you. No one but another Grey Warden could understand what you have had to do and decisions you have had to make, all the while dealing with the threat of the blight and civil war. He would have understood about Vaughan, about Howe and Loghain. I know this because I know you."

Wynne was vehement, but she could tell by the fact Dain couldn't lift his head to look at her that he didn't believe her. The tears were gone in a surge of anger.

"Listen to me Dain, ignore everything but me. I believe that you have done everything that you could have. You have done right when it would have been easier to do the wrong thing. You saved Connor; you saved the Tower and the Mages. You did. And you helped those who could do nothing for themselves."

Could he find forgiveness that easily? From the mouth of an old mage who saw his deeds over the last year? He finally lifted his head, a wry smile on his face.

"You have seen us this far Dain. You. Now finish that, have a bath. I had heard of what and where you were today. Dain we are finally here because of you."

Then he did something else to surprise her. He stood, again knocking back the heavy wine. Swapping the empty cup for the still nearly full jug. He bent and kissed her cheek, his breath heavy with the fruit of the wine.

"Thanks Wynne. I'm glad you decided that joining us was worthwhile."

She couldn't help but blush, taking a deeper sip of the wine as the door closed behind him.

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><p>He stood before Zevran's door. Two things keeping him there. The fact that his apology was still unplanned in his head, and also for the fact that Zevran may not be alone. Gathering whatever he had left after the meeting with Anora and that spur of the moment conversation with Wynne, he knocked. He more than half expected to hear the giggles from a veritable harem that Zevran could have harvested from the servants around the cattle, but he heard no footsteps. Dain found himself undaunted and knocked again, he heard the sigh creep under the door at his persistent knocks. But he did not want to leave it, this time it was important for someone outside of himself.<p>

"Zev. I need to speak with you."

The reply was ghostly, but there nonetheless.

"It is late."

"I bring wine. From Wynne."

The door opened slightly, the shadow of Zevran's profile hovering behind it.

"The woman does seem to have a nose for the stuff. I guess I should not let this opportunity go amiss."

Utter reticence coated Zevran's posture and gestures but he still ushered Dain in, fetching glasses from a side board. Dain focussed on pouring the wine, offering Zevran one. Again stuck for words.

"Dain, I…"

"No I think I need to go first Zevran. Please."

Zevran shrugged, but the elf couldn't deny the interest this midnight visit had generated, for several possibilities, though some were more than a little farfetched. But he kept an open mind.

"I did not thank you for coming with me to the Howe's. I did not thank you for letting me get my own back on him. I did not for you leading the others from me; I could imagine how hard it must have been. I have thought on the opposite, and think that I would have pursued you even if to save you from yourself. I did not when you and Leiliana entered Drakon to rescue me from that place. Instead I berated you for something that I knew was worthwhile, that any promise Vaughan could have made would be repaid many fold in the blood of innocents."

Dain lifted his glass to the elf,

"Thank you Zev. For everything."

"Oh well. The pleasure was all mine, my friend."

"No, do be honest. I do not think that it was. I…know that I have been a terrible companion, to all of you. The heaviness of this business, I don't think I could ever have imagined its real weight. I think without the comrades I have been surrounded with, that I would not have survived. The fact we stand where we stand, is a testament to everyone."

"Oh Dain, you are the brace on which it all stands. But I understand and accept the sentiment. After all it comes with an apology of a very nice Orlesian red."

Dain laughed, and he couldn't remember the last time he had done so.

"Good. Then tomorrow morning you can accompany Oghren, Leiliana and I to visit an old friend of hers. Then later to the Alienage."

"I am at your disposal."

Dain nodded, half closing his eyes. Making no real move to leave the warm fire lit room. Zevran looked over the top of the glass at him. Wondering how the man in front of him could command such power, but be so relaxed in the company of one whom at one time had tried to kill him. But the elf knew that it would require far too much energy to decipher so he simply took another sip of the wine.

"Thank you my friend."

The whispered words had Dain's lips lifting in a grin.

"I do ask one thing?"

An eyebrow rose in acquiesce.

"Who is Rory?"

Zevran couldn't deny that there was a ping of jealousy in his chest when he remembered the tears an unconscious Dain had cried for this unknown.

"Roland was my childhood friend, my best friend. He was to be a Warden recruit. He held the door so Mother and I could find father. I thought I knew the instant he died, when that door crumbled beneath Howe's forces."

There was no brace of anger as Dain said the traitor's name, but instead an uneasy peace.

"But I was wrong. He was in Drakon. I found his body. Then they placed it with me in my cell. He had the heart to be a Warden; he would have been a great one. His father held a small holding; always they had been in service to the Cousland's, the loyal Gilmore's. Now that line is gone, perhaps fitting that mine has gone too. But I wish that I had been able to save him. But it is a failure that joins with the others."

Zevran wasn't sure he had been ready for that. It was so outside his realm of understanding, even for all that he had seen as an assassin, for all that he had understood, that had changed when he had met the man before him.

"Oh."

Dain snorted,

"Yeah. But I gave Rory's shade what I could, I can see that now. The death of Howe. And even if he hadn't a hand in it, Loghain will be something else I give to his memory, and that of my parents, my nephew, my brother and his wife. As well as all the others connected to Highever and my family."

Dain opened his eyes, swallowing what was left of the wine.

"I'll see you tomorrow Zev."

"No doubt."

Dain grinned and left the warm room, leaving the elf to muse into the surface of the dark wine.


End file.
